Hero and Leander
by Helena Oe
Summary: A popular myth is mirrored through the romance of two students. HGDM. COMPLETE
1. Rings and Things

Disclaimer: The who and where belong to JK Rowling. The what, when, and how are mine.

Author's Note: I am one of those people who dwell on the humor fics and adore them deep down in my soul, but when asked to write humor, am struck down by a bolt of lightning. A bolt of lightning I affectionately call the Giant Lightning Bolt of Terror. This, however, is my attempt, and if you hate it, I'm sorry. I am trying. I have a real strong feeling that most of this story will be written in my room after midnight, all rebellious-like, because my mother thinks I'm asleep. Mwa ha ha. Therefore, I will try very hard not to make silly mistakes in my grammar or spelling, but since I can barely read what I'm typing, let alone understand it, I trust you will all forgive me. Oh dear, I am making much too many excuses and complaints. I really should just get on with the story. So, here you go...

Chapter 1: Rings and Things

Hermione stood from bed around dawn. She looked down at her hand and smiled at the small, demure diamond then at the young man still slumbering peacefully. She crept through the dormitory room to the staircase where she walked silently until getting to the Common Room, running full speed at the staircase leading to her dormitory, then crept to her own bed, plopping down for a short morning nap.

The yapping of young girls drew her awake and she flung her curtains open, praying to God that she wasn't late in waking. What she saw was Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil gaping and giggling at their star chart assigned by Professor Trelawney. Twits!Hermione's mind mused annoyingly. She sank back into her pillows, desperately trying to recover any chance she had at more sleep, but to no avail. As she was already up and there was nothing to be done about it, she changed out of yesterday's outfit into today's and stepped into her robes. She made her bed neatly and pranced down the stairs into the Common Room wearing a smile a mile wide.

"Geez," Ginny said as Hermione wished the whole house a good morning, "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, hiding her left hand behind her back as she tugged the ring off her finger and placed it in her back pocket.

"Well, you're sure in a happy mood," Ginny said, shrugging it off, "I just thought something might have happened."

"Like what?" Hermione demanded. "What did you think might have happened?"

Ginny looked taken aback. "I don't know..." then she smiled mischievously, "Like you might have met a guy."

"No!" Hermione said loudly, and then recovered, "I mean, no, I haven't met anyone."

"Fine." Ginny walked away, flipping her hair happily and joining some other fifth years.

Ron made his way across the Common Room and met Hermione. "Hey," he said. "Let's go down, I'm starved." He clutched his stomach as a booming rumble emanated from beneath his shirt.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked, trying to sound casual.

"He'll meet us down in a minute. Why?"

Why did everything sound so suspicious?

"No reason," she answered quickly. "Can't a friend just wonder about another friend?"

"Yeah," Ron said, stepping back with an expression as if Hermione had assumed the form of a giant, fire-breathing cactus. "I was just wondering."

"Sorry," she said, taking his arm and leading him to the portrait. "I've been kind of stressed lately."

"I can tell." He stopped after they had exited their Common Room. "You know, Hermione, you can tell me anything. If something's bothering you, I'm the guy you can come to."

"I know," she began walking again, "but this is nothing, just schoolwork piling up on me." She waved a hand and let out a little, exasperated giggle.

Ron cocked an eyebrow skeptically.

"Okay, so that's not the whole truth," Hermione confided, "but the whole truth is just so much bigger and more complicated than I can even grip my mind around."

"I wasn't pushing it," Rom said, highly amused at her melodramatic display.

Hermione's cheeks reddened slightly. "Sorry again."

They entered the Great Hall, the aromas lifting and tantalizing their senses. Did it always smell this good? Hermione thought to herself.

They seated themselves and began feasting on hot cakes and oats and muffins and all that the Hogwarts' kitchen had offered. Hermione thought that nothing could lighten her mood more, until the doors swung open and Harry waltzed into the Great Hall, his arms swinging at his sides, a confident gleam in his eyes.

It was then, in the midst of all his radiating glory, that a blueberry muffin struck him in the temple, wiping the stupid grin off his face. Hermione stifled her laughter until she glanced at the origin of the flying muffin. Slytherine table... and Draco Malfoy. She ran to help Harry up, and cleaned the muffin entrails from the side of his face and out of his hair.

"Oh, is your mommy cleaning you up, Potter?" Malfoy jeered, his goonies snorting uncontrollably.

"Shove it, Malfoy," Hermione spat back.

"Gladly, Doll." Malfoy winked at her and licked his lips suggestively as his crowd howled with laughter. Harry's pupils dilated in rage and he turned towards the Slytherine table, knocking over chairs and innocent first years in the process.

"Harry!" Hermione ran after him, desperately trying to hold him back, but to no avail. Harry pulled his fist back and slugged Malfoy straight in the nose, resulting in more blood than was intended. Malfoy straightened himself, wiped his mouth viciously, and returned the favor. By now, Ron, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and a hoard of other Gryffindors had joined the crowd, shooting punches at anxious Slytherine boys who had been awaiting them. When a good portion of the staff arrived, they were able to separate the boys and send eight, including the original offenders, to the hospital wing.

Hermione and Ron stood at the edge of the Hospital Wing, waiting impatiently for the signal to visit Harry.

"So," Ron asked for about the thirty-eighth time since the fight had broken up, "what did Malfoy do to send Harry off like that?"

"It's not important, Ron," Hermione said, "it was just one of those irritating, insulting things that Malfoy says."

"But it wasn't 'Mudblood'?"

"I thought we had already established that."

"Then why won't you tell me?"

Madam Pomfrey arrived during their friendly chat and cut Ron off.

"You can see Mr. Potter now," she said, "there were no serious injuries, just a bloody nose and a sprained ankle."

They followed her down the row of beds until they got to the last one, in which Harry was laying, looking bored, if anything.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said, "how you feeling?"

"Great. I'd just like to get out of here. I can't miss another day of Potions, three in a row will land me permanent residence with Snape."

Hermione took Harry's arm softly, "I'm sure you'll be out in time for Potions."

His eyes lit up as they paused for a tender moment. Harry took Hermione's hand, running his thumb over her fourth finger plaintively before turning to Ron, "Hey," he said cheerfully, "you think you can sweet talk me out of this bed?"

Ron winked, cracked his knuckles and turned on his heel towards Pomfrey.

"Harry," Hermione whimpered, "you can't do this. We have to make a stand, because if we continue the way we've been, you are going to have to learn to control yourself."

"But did you hear..."

"Yes," Hermione stroked his hand lovingly and said in a calmed voice, "and it wasn't nearly as bad as the things he's said and done to me in the past. People will suspect something's up if you start a riot over a comment that innocent."

"Innocent? Do you know what he was suggesting?"

"I'm not eight, Harry, of course I know what he was suggesting."

Pomfrey returned with Ron's earlobe held tightly between her thumb and forefinger. "Mr. Potter, if you send your little crony to meddle in my business once more, I will confine you to that bed for the remainder of term."

"Ooh, four days- scary..." Ron managed in the midst of his ear-splitting agony, to which Pomfrey yanked and twisted harder, emitting a low groan from Ron.

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I just didn't want to miss another day of Potions, and, seeing as how I'm feeling so much better, I thought I might be let out early."

Pomfrey squinted in thought, her nose wrinkling unpleasantly.

"Alright, you may go to Potions, but if you have trouble walking or the blood starts flowing again, come straight back to me. Understand?"

The three of them nodded solemnly.

"Then be on your way."

As they approached the dungeons, the trio was thoroughly regretting leaving the Hospital Wing. Missing another day of Potions seemed glorious as they heard the deafening disorder emitting from the dungeons, along with lots of smoke a rank, rotting smell.

Ron shot a desperate glance in Harry's direction, though Harry missed it. He was far too caught up in his own painful musings of the horrors he would be put through because of his tardiness.

As they approached the dungeons, the rotting smells and smoke became more apparent, along with other sounds that didn't quite seem right, including a few choice words from a very unhappy-sounding Snape.

As they turned into the dungeons, they met an absolute anarchy. Many of their friends were running past them screaming, some being stunned in the process. This brought on a new curiosity in our friends, and they raced down the hall to the heart of the offense, defending themselves against attackers all the way.

When they turned into Snape's classroom, they met a horrific sight- that in which Snape was without a shirt... sprawled on his stomach across his desk.

"Oh God!" Ron shrieked manically, "shield my virgin eyes!"

It was only after this first terror had passed that the whole situation came into light. Three men, cloaked and unrecognizable, stood over a group close to seven or eight students, all either stunned magically or out of pure fear. One of the men, taller than the others, turned his wand to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Ah," he sighed darkly, "just the one I've been waiting for." He strode to the trio and Hermione and Ron stepped in front of Harry protectively.

"You'll have to get through us," Hermione said, raising her wand.

The Death Eater chuckled softly before grabbing Hermione up in his arms and carrying her to the other students. This was, to say the least, a surprise. No one ever threatened Hermione, she was not a target- that role was reserved for Harry, so the three of them stood, completely perplexed for a good three seconds before the large Death Eater man raised his wand and cleared his throat menacingly.

"Avada..." the three men said simultaneously before having their wands dispelled from their hands and through the door behind Harry and Ron.

With the combined efforts of Harry, Ron, Neville, and a few others who had been paying attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts the Disarming spell had worked perfectly. The same group of heroes turned to tend to the now frantic Death Eaters, none of which could seem to locate their wand, and all of which were stunned within moments.

Hermione joined her friends, quivering slightly at her near-death experience. "We need to go to Dumbledore!" she shouted above the sounds of hysterical teenagers. Always one to take charge, she instructed Harry stay and watch over the criminals, Ron stay and revive the students and the shirtless Snape, and she would go to find Dumbledore. They agreed, not completely eager on Ron's part, and separated.

Hermione took off down the hall, trying not to step on the blanket of students lining the hallway. The search for her Headmaster did not take long, as he was at the entranceway to the dungeons just as she was, resulting in a collision of sorts.

"Dumbledore!" Hermione said, rubbing her head and standing slowly, trying to avoid the little stars blocking her vision. She gave the Headmaster her hand, and helped him to his feet. "There are three Death Eaters in the..."

Dumbledore nodded quickly, "Don't worry, Miss Granger, I have it taken care of." He turned away from her and briskly made his way down the hallway, turning mid-stride to shout back at her, "Kindly report to your Transfiguration classroom now, Miss Granger. Professor McGonnagall needs to speak to you."

She nodded and turned, bolting towards the Transfiguration classroom, relieved to have a place to go.

End Note: Hello again. Well, there's my first chapter. Wow, a multi-chaptered story, what a novel idea for me. Let's hope I can keep this up, shall we? If you want to give me feedback, that would be peachy and I would be thrilled, though I'm not pressuring you because it annoys me when authors do that. I'm simply putting the suggestion out there. Love you all and good night!


	2. Buh Bye!

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah... please don't sue me I do no wrong.

Authors's Note: Okay, chapter two. You know, I still don't have a clue what I'm going to call this story. I guess I'll know by the time it's posted... obviously... but for now I'm lost. On a side note, I have a beautiful little treat for tomato lovers (not in the story, right here) and that is this: butter an English muffin, toast it, then put a salted and peppered slice of tomato on top. It is divine. Anyway, this was a rather boring chapter to write, so I can't imagine the pain in reading it. Bear with me, it won't last long.

Chapter 2: Buh Bye!

Standing anxiously in front of McGonnagall, Hermione was breathing too hard to say or hear anything. She had run full speed from the dungeons to the fourth floor where McGonnagall had been waiting, having to detour twice due to the fickle stairs.

"Miss Granger," McGonnagall strode forward and led Hermione to a chair in front of her desk, allowing her to calm her breath. Hermione removed her robes, as they were much more of a burden than anything else and only increased her perspiration. Finally she looked up to her professor to know the cause of the meeting.

"Yes, Professor McGonnagall?"

McGonnagall sat across from her, a brooding expression falling across her face. "Miss Granger, would you like some tea?"

"No thank you, just water, if that's alright."

McGonnagall retrieved a pitcher of water and poured Hermione a glass, which was practically inhaled by the radioactively red student.

They then sat for some moments in silence, neither allowing their eyes to meet the other. Hermione picked at a loose string hanging from her blue long-sleeved t-shirt and McGonnagall shuffled papers on her desk until finally drawing her mind around the situation and addressing Hermione again.

"Miss Granger..."

Hermione was getting just plain annoyed.

"_Yes_, Professor McGonnagall?"

McGonnagall cleared her throat and stared directly at Hermione.

"Do you know what the attack today was about?"

"I haven't a clue. " Hermione did have a clue, but she'd much rather have McGonnagall tell her and get it over and done with.

"Those Death Eaters were after only half and muggle-born students. They know that Hogwarts is a society in and of itself and is just as influential as any other Magical headquarters. An attack here would send a message."

"Why are you only telling me? Shouldn't the other students be told?"

"They attacked in Snape's class today, which is comprised of only Slytherine and Gryffindor sixth years, am I right?"

"Yes."

"The eight other students that were targeted are half-blood... you are the only sixth year Gryffindor muggle-born."

"Why does that matter if they were looking for half-bloods as well?"

"Did you realize they didn't take action until they found you?"

"Yes."

"You were the target- not them. They want to be rid of all muggle-borns, half-bloods are on the side. You were the target today, and that means that you are at high risk of other attacks as well."

"We're all at risk- this is a war. Shouldn't you be addressing the entire school?"

"No. "

She lowered her head, obviously she was not getting to the point and Hermione was downright irritated. There were so many other things she could be doing than hearing her professor state the obvious.

"Miss Granger..."

"Yes, Professor McGonnagall?" Hermione thought her brains would explode if she had to repeat that statement even one more time that day.

"I've alerted your parents of the attack."

Okay, she was wrong. If her brains were going to explode at all, it would be because of this. She could feel a cold sweat forming on her forehead and suddenly speaking became very difficult.

"Why?" she stuttered, tears forming slowly.

"They have a right to know, they're your parents."

"That doesn't give them a right to be scared out of their mind." She knew what was coming, she just didn't want to hear it, so she stood and crossed to the door before McGonnagall said anything else.

"Miss Granger!"

"Yes, Professor McGonnagall?" she slowly turned to face her professor.

"Sit down. I'm not through." Her voice had taken a very different turn. It was not friendly or nice or even stern- simply calm and expectant.

Hermione walked back to her seat and sat.

"Miss Granger, your parents have demanded you be taken out of this school's care."

Hermione thought for a moment. That couldn't be right, it was unheard of.

"You mean for the rest of term? I'll go home four days early, you mean?"

"No. They have asked for you to be removed from our care permanently. You will be installed in a muggle school, and continue your education there."

Hermione shook her head slowly, unable to grasp what her professor had just said. No more Hogwarts? What was this world coming to? She tried to shake her head from the thought and it kept returning- it wouldn't stop. No more Hogwarts. Next year she would be a muggle, devoid of magical influence. _What the crap? _her mind yelled. _That is not right_!

"When will I be leaving?" she heard her voice ask calmly. _No wait_, her mind shouted, _that's not what you want to say._

"I will give you ten minutes to pack your things and then I will expect you to return here."

_Punch her!_ but she didn't punch Professor McGonnagall; instead she stood, nodded, and left the room, towards her dormitory, which wasn't far.

She sat on her bed, looking at her trunk sadly. She shifted slowly and suddenly a painful something jabbed her bottom. She felt and pulled the small diamond ring from her pocket. Tears welled up in her eyes and she curled up in a ball and cried for the remainder of her ten minutes.

She sat up and, still sniffling, levitated her trunk down the stairs and into the Common Room, where she was met with a swarm of Gryffindors, Harry in the lead. Ron ran forward and swung her around in his arms, laughing happily, obviously ignoring the tears running down her cheeks as she realized what she was leaving.

"What's going on?" she managed amidst her choked sobs.

"I just heard," Ron said, turning to Harry. "Congratulations, you guys'll be great."

Harry smiled and went to wipe the tears from Hermione's cheeks.

"I told them all," he whispered. "Now everyone knows about us."

"When's the date?" a girl squealed from the back.

"We don't know yet," Harry said proudly, "I only proposed two nights ago."

"Harry..." Hermione sniffled.

"Hold on, Hermione," he said, soaking up more questions and congratulating pats on the back.

"Harry..." she tried again.

"What is it?" he said finally.

"I have to leave."

"Okay, where are you going?" he was so oblivious.

"No, I mean I have to leave Hogwarts..." tears returned to her temporarily dry cheeks, "for good. My parents have pulled me out and put me in a muggle school."

Harry's face sobered; as did the students close enough to hear.

"Why?" he stammered, his chin wrinkling.

"The attack today was meant for me- it scared the hell out of my parents."

"How did they even find out?"

"McGonnagall."

"That bag!" Ron shouted from behind them. Tears were streaming down his face and his hands were balled into fists. Hermione went to console him. She wrapped her arms around waist and nuzzled her face in his shoulder.

"I'll still see you, Ron. Don't be upset, it'll just make me more upset."

Ron wiped his face with the hand that wasn't holding Hermione close.

"I just love you, Hermione. Hogwarts won't be the same..."

"I love you too, Ron." She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, then pulled away to greet the other students that wanted to say their good byes.

She hugged Parvati and Lavender, who just this morning she had been so angry with for waking her up. She wouldn't mind anymore, she thought. She hugged Neville, whom she would miss helping in Potions, she hugged Seamus, who had always made her laugh, more at him than with him to be perfectly honest. She hugged Dean Thomas, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, the Creevey brothers, and finally, in a wave of tears, she tugged Ginny to her, sobbing softly. This had been the only real female friend she had ever had. Harry and Ron were great and they were like brothers to her, but there were just some things that she couldn't tell them, and Ginny was where she had gone when those things came up.

Suddenly, looking up, she saw McGonnagall come into the room and beckon her to come, a gentle smile on her face. Another urge to punch the elderly woman shot through her body, but the feeling was overtaken by Harry's arms wrapping around her and holding her close as he kissed her hair.

She turned to wrap her arms around his neck and close her eyes, inhaling the clean scent of his hair.

"This doesn't change anything," he whispered. "I'll write you the moment you leave."

"I know you will." She pressed her lips to his, clenching her eyes shut, trying to take in his taste, his feel, for as long as she could, trying to seal it on her lips so that she would never forget.

"Miss Granger..." Professor McGonnagall's voice broke the silence and Hermione unlatched herself from Harry's grasp.

"I'm coming, Professor." She went to her trunk and levitated it out the door, following McGonnagall. She turned at the portrait hole, to see Harry, Ron, and Ginny's sad faces waving at her. She smiled at them and disappeared through the portrait hole.

When they arrived in McGonnagall's room, Hermione dumped the trunk onto the floor hard.

"I'm going to double-check the portkey, if you don't mind waiting for a moment."

"No, it's no trouble." Hermione stood awkwardly, watching McGonnagall when her stomach lurched and her eyes grew dizzy. "Could I wait in the hall?" she stammered.

"Yes, but don't go away from my room," McGonnagall said without looking up.

Hermione ran to the door, vomiting the moment she got out the door.

"I'd appreciate it if you blew chunks in private next time," a glossy voice said behind her. She spun around and saw Malfoy, leaning heavily against the wall, legs crossed, looking as menacing as ever. Hermione stood slowly and made her way towards Malfoy, stopping inches in front of him to raise her wand and perform a lightning spell, which replaced his hands with feet and visa versa.

"What the hell?" he shouted, bending down to put his feet on the ground as well as his hands.

Hermione shrugged, figuring that as it was the last time she'd perform magic in two years, she should take advantage of it. She made him do a jig, sing opera, impersonate a fish, and finally grow a tail. It was only after the last spell had taken effect that McGonnagall grabbed her arm, pulling her into the classroom, and then correcting the damage that had been done to Malfoy.

"Miss Granger!" she shouted, once the door had been slammed behind her. "Do you have any idea how many rules you have broken in the last six minutes? Lucius Malfoy will be furious and..."

"And I thought I was no longer in the care of Hogwarts and therefore don't have to abide by its regulations."

She smiled smugly, crossing her arms and staring at McGonnagall in the eyes. "Well," McGonnagall said, more calmly, "regardless of who's care you are in, it was an inappropriate and disrespectful thing to do."

"My last minutes at Hogwarts and you think I'm going to pay Malfoy respect!" Why was she being so forward with McGonnagall? Usually she would be cowering at the thought of earning her disapproval. "Okay," Hermione said moodily, "so, is the portkey ready?"

McGonnagall nodded and summoned the trunk to both of them.

"Are you coming with me?" Hermione asked.

"No," McGonnagall said, shaking her head sadly, "I have too much to do here."

Hermione understood.

"It's the empty quill on my desk."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, tears returning once more, "for everything."

"You're welcome, my dear."

And with that, Hermione took hold of her trunk and grabbed the quill lying on Professor McGonnagall's desk, feeling as if a fishhook had gotten behind her naval and tugged. She spun for a moment, the cool rush of the portkey familiar and comforting, before landing abruptly in her living room, with two worried dentists waiting for her.

End Note: Could I be sappier if I tried? Oh, I don't really know if McGonnagall's classroom is on the fourth floor or not, I didn't really want to check, if it says it in the book. I apologize if you all know that it's not on the fourth floor. Also, I don't really know if Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell would even be at Hogwarts in Hermione's sixth year- that one's much lazier of me not to check on. I also apologize if I got that wrong.


	3. Terrors of High School

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are much like puppets, and though I do not consider myself their creator, for I did not toil long, hard hours sewing and stuffing cotton into their little bodies, I did purchase them and I now own them not in the legal sense, but in the affection sense that lets me write little stories about them. Yes, that's right... I am their puppet master!!!

Author's Note: I apologize for that ridiculously and hideously long disclaimer. It wasn't even funny. Anyway, here I am again with yet another fold in the blanket of my precious little story.

Chapter 3: Terrors of High School

When she was first home, Hermione handled the situation well, speaking kindly to her parents, though not openly. She was polite with relatives and suffered through the museums and movies her parents made her see as a part of their vacation. However, a month into summer, Hermione had fallen into depression, relying solely on the letters she received from Harry, Ron, and Ginny to get through her days. She had turned completely from her parents and would not talk to them despite all their pains, so they had eventually stopped trying. The letters grew fewer until she would receive only one every few weeks, and those were usually half-hearted, going through pleasantries and concealing all the adventures and enjoyment they were truly having.

Her parents worried incessantly, taking her to endless psychiatrists and therapists, all saying that she simply missed her friends, so that finally they could seek no more help for her. When the one-week-until-school mark hit, Mrs. Granger made her way up the staircase to her daughter's room, opening the door nervously to see Hermione lying face-down on her bed, her head hanging off, reading a thick book on the floor. Hermione did not look like the well-kept girl she had raised. She had not showered in at least a week, resulting in greasy, wild hair spread over her back and a baggy t-shirt emitting a body odor throughout the room like a nuclear bomb- destroying everything in sight.

"Hermione...dear?" her mother said softly, pushing the door shut behind her and ignoring the overwhelming stink.

Hermione raised her head and looked at her mother for a moment, then returned to her book.

"Hermione, school starts in a week, and I thought you should start getting ready."

Hermione nodded absently, turning the page, still absorbed in her book. She couldn't care less what her mother was saying.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger shouted, becoming more frustrated by the nanosecond.

Hermione lifted her head and swung up into a sitting-position on her bed.

"You will take a shower and come with me to pick out some clothes, and then we will get some supplies.

Hermione shrugged and walked past her mother into the bathroom, taking as much time in the shower as she could bear without turning into a human raisin. She then ambled about into a pair of black sweat pants and a tight, red, zip-up sweatshirt with a hood. She followed her mom out to the car and nodded off to sleep on their fifteen-minute drive to the department store.

"Hermione!" her mother hollered, Hermione waking with a jump.

As they entered the store, Hermione had a real dilemma. She knew she could not keep her silent routine up for long, but still didn't really want to get into any deep conversation with her mother. A flow of communication was all that was needed. She continued along those lines until her mother drove her from her thoughts with an armful of outfits into a dressing room. She liked most of the clothing, and it was at the fourth shirt that she uttered her first words for months.

"My boobs are too big," she said calmly, her mother standing behind her looking into the mirror. It was true; the white tank top was far too tight for the breasts that seemed to have inflated a whole cup-size over the summer. Her mother's jaw dropped and she seemed to lose feeling in her legs.

"Are you serious?!" she screamed ecstatically, "you don't speak for two months and all you can come up with is a complaint of your busting bosom!"

"What?" Hermione asked, chuckling at her mother's reaction.

"It's just so weird," was all her mother could come up with.

Naturally, Mrs. Granger tried to probe other information out of her, but whenever it struck something along the lines of Hogwarts or magic or any of her friends, she clammed up and shut her mouth again. Hermione could handle talking about clothes and her womanly endowments, but talking about Harry and Ron was going too far too fast.

The day ended on a happy note, one of words if anything and Hermione felt slightly more confident at starting a new year in a muggle school.

The first day was horrific. She had classes that entailed mathematics and literature again- things that she had not dwelled seriously on for six years, things that she would never need in her future-which still revolved around the magical world.

Her first class was particularly painful... physical education!!! They ran the one-mile, just to test everyone's speed and endurance on the first day. She was of the middle quality- she certainly wouldn't be a track star, but she at least wasn't one of those trailing in the back, heaving in anguish after the first lap. It wasn't the actual running, but rather the fellow runners and the coaches cheering them on.

"Get your fat ass moving, you over-grown platypuses," a four-foot skeleton screamed at the students, holding her clipboard with a death-grip.

"If you're still on the track in five minutes, mark my words, you will be out there all day," a giant of a man roared between high-pitched whistles.

And finally, "If you can't run this mile in seven minutes, you deserve nothing better than to be beaten to a bloody pulp and gutted like a fish!" the last, tall, lanky man bellowed inches away from the runners' faces.

After the psychological trauma of physical education came in-classroom classes, none much better. All were either so hot they resembled a sauna, or so cold only Santa would feel comfortable. Though all the classes put together did not hold a candle to the pure stupidity and irritation held by the students themselves.

Hermione felt completely stuck-up when she thought of her opinions of her fellow classmates, but then again, is it really a superiority complex when you actually are better than everyone else?

The girls, for instance, were all absolute pixies, with no decency whatsoever. Not a one of them could hold an honest conversation without having to reapply some portion of lip-gloss or bring to attention the "absolutely yummy bum" as one put it, of any number of "yummy" male classmates.

It made Hermione ill. Almost literally at one point.

However, as bad as the ditzy blondes were, they were really nothing in comparison with the boys. There were two categories: the good-looking and the not good-looking. The good-looking were those with an absurd vanity that would make Narcissus himself look like modesty incarnate; they could say anything, do anything (or anyone, as it turned out), without the slightest feeling of remorse or punishment. The not so good-looking boys were about as bad, but on an entirely different scale. They were the ignorant hicks who, because they could not attain satisfactory interaction with their female counterpart, had resorted to experiments involving those of the same sex... and drugs. They were the boys who, if they ever came to school, it was to show just how stoned they had gotten the previous night.

In a nutshell, it was pure, unadulterated hell and Hermione felt as if the all-consuming flames were slowly eating her alive.

After two weeks, the pain of school had numbed and Hermione went about it with the same attitude as any obligation- the easiest, most pain-free way to get it done, and on one particular Thursday morning, she was doing just that.

She arrived at her second class, just after physical education, to two eager looking sisters with bright blonde hair standing at the door to her World History class.

"Hi!" they both yelped hysterically.

"Hello..." Hermione said, edging past them to her back-row desk, dumping her pile of books on the floor.

"My name's Fay," one of the girls said, extending a hand, to which Hermione met half-heartedly.

"Hello, Fay."

"I'm Fanny!" the slightly taller one said proudly.

"Hi... Fanny." Hermione had a difficult time keeping a straight face while referring to her peer with the same name she commonly used to describe her buttocks. "So, you two are new?" she hated the social part of her brain that was kicking in, but as she didn't want to appear unfriendly, she continued to smile and converse the way a normal teenager should.

They stated affirmatively and seated themselves beside Hermione, chatting through the class, mostly to themselves, but with Hermione as an unwilling audience.

By lunch, Hermione and Fanny had somehow lost Fay and were quietly looking for her with their sack lunches dangling dangerously from their grasp. When Hermione turned a corner, her lunch met its untimely demise, plummeting unexpectedly to the concrete ground below.

Hermione stood in total and utter shock, mouth open and eyes wide, at the sight that met Fanny and she. Malfoy... yes, that same Draco Malfoy that she had tried to stamp from her memory the moment she met... was sitting on a bench attacking Fay with his tongue, while she lay innocently on his knee.

"Fay!" Fanny screamed, at almost the exact moment that Hermione screamed:

"Malfoy!"

Both raised their heads, Fay struggling to her feet, while Malfoy shook his hair from his eyes and sat back coolly.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Hermione squealed as she made her way to the young wizard, pushing the twins out of the way.

"It's one of my favorite hang-out spots while the rest of the school's at Hogsmeade."

Hermione groaned at the recollection of the village outside of Hogwarts.

"Cool it, Missy," Malfoy said smoothly, "I don't want you getting sick again."

Hermione reddened at the way Malfoy and she had last met.

"Can you be civil for even one moment?" Hermione spat out in disgust, "You are the first I've seen of the magical world in three months, and you could at least have the decency to realize that and let me wallow in my golden memories of it... none of which include you," she said as he perked up.

"Gee, Granger," Malfoy said, mocking interesting, "I thought the only time you spoke that passionately was when the topic of conversation included puny menservants who couldn't care less about your help."

Hermione was fuming in rage. How could she have been so happy to see him?

"Shove it, Malfoy!" she socked his arm hard.

"Hmmm," he sighed, "I thought we'd already discussed my thoughts on that rendezvous."

Hermione smacked her forehead, creating a loud thwacking noise.

"Why do I even attempt conversation?"

"Or retaliation for that matter?" Malfoy stood carelessly and crossed his arms over his chest, "You're really not much good at either."

He turned and walked away smoothly, his stride remarkably suave. As Hermione's eyes subconsciously rested on the back of the wizard's pants, the wheels and gears of her mind were turning restlessly.

"Wait!" she shouted, Malfoy turning abruptly, and she joined him, grabbing his arms. "Malfoy, I need you."

"Granger," Malfoy jerked Hermione forward, "this is so sudden."

Hermione pulled away, smacking Malfoy convulsively.

"No," she said, maintaining her cool, "I was thinking as you were walking away and something came to me."

"Do I even want to ask where this is going?" his left eyebrow was raised suspiciously.

"You are my only ticket back to the magical world." She smiled, as if that explained everything.

Malfoy shook his head for a moment, unable to even think of what she had said. "What?" he stammered, "Care to elaborate?"

"Oh," Hermione straightened and put her game face on, "You're Head Boy, right?"

Malfoy nodded slowly.

"With your own chambers, it would be easy to hide me for the school year, sneak me food and books so that I can keep up on the studies..."

"Why don't you recruit your little boyfriend to do it?" Malfoy looked a little disturbed at her seriousness of the plan.

"It would be too obvious. People wouldn't even think to look in your rooms if I went missing and even if they asked, and you said no, they wouldn't push it. They'll look in Harry and Ron and Ginny's room for months, thinking that they're hiding me. They would never even consider you, due to our relationship's reputation."

"What relationship?"

"The nonexistent one we've been striving for for the past six years."

Malfoy nodded, the idea shaping in his mind. Deep in his heart, he wouldn't mind helping Hermione out a bit, even if it was against every moral and lesson he had ever been taught, but the part in his brain that was still Lucius' son told him that he had to have a motive- he couldn't just help her.

"What's in it for me?" he asked, managing the most evil look he could muster.

A little intimidated, Hermione conquered her fears and said the first thing that came to mind, "I could work for you."

His eyebrows clustered confusedly.

"You don't need help with homework, but I could tidy your room, or keep your things in order, or...or anything else you would need." She had not managed the effect she intended.

"You fail to realize that we have an entire house elves staff at Hogwarts designed for those purposes. You have yet to convince me."

"Shit," she muttered under her breath. "Listen, I know the Hogwarts grounds better than most people, probably better than you even," she didn't know this was true, but heck, it was worth a try, "and if you ever needed anything or needed things checked out, I could take care of it."

"That would defeat the purpose of your hiding."

Hermione held her face in her hands and could feel her throat start to swell. No, she told herself, do not cry in front of Malfoy.

"I don't know what to tell you," she tried again, rebelling against her will and letting the tears fill her eyes, "but I have to be back there. I have to be at Hogwarts- I'm drowning here and I know that you don't care, but it's the only way I can think of to save myself..." she turned from him, ashamed of her tears.

He took her arms, more tenderly than she expected, and brought her close to him, turning her and holding her to his chest. Her face nestled perfectly into his neck and she could smell the masculine scent of his hair. She closed her eyes and stopped the tears while the strong Slytherine held her, not knowing himself why.

"Alright, Granger," he said, his arms tightening slightly around her body, "I'll do it, but you've got to remember that you owe me."

Hermione pulled away and looked him in the eyes, those gray eyes that were so sincere.

"Are you sure?" she breathed.

He nodded and took her arm, leading her back to the street away from the muggle school.

End Note: Yay, it's getting a plot! Well, I suppose you can expect it to be a bit juicier now that the story's rolling. Oh, and for all of you who share the pain I feel in PE, that segment was just for you.


	4. Lady in Red

Disclaimer: Good Lord, why must we put a disclaimer on each chapter?! If you haven't gotten the point by now, you are stupid and I hate you. Not really, I'm just becoming agitated, I love you. smooch smooch****

Author's Note: Okay, we get a bit of action (finally) in this next bit, just to let you know. Oh, and thankfully, the title is starting to come to me. Isn't it annoying how sometimes you have a title in your head so clearly (that's how it was with my other story) and then you have to build the story around that and other times there's a story in your head and you have to work out an appropriate title? Another food tip for everyone, one that seems to me much weirder than my tomato suggestion- Reese's pieces (you know, those little MnMs with peanut butter and colored in orange, yellow, and brown... I think) and cheese. Note, you don't eat them together, but merely take a bite of Reese's pieces, then a small bite of cheese. It's much better than it sounds.

Anyway, on to the story...

Chapter 4: Lady in Red

Malfoy raised an arm expertly to hail down a taxi whizzing by. It hurtled to a stop in front of the pair and Malfoy opened the door for Hermione to climb in the backseat, following her closely.

"Where to?" the driver asked in husky voice.

Malfoy handed him a lined piece of paper holding an address and phone number.

"Make it quick."

The car jolted forward and began their journey to wherever Malfoy had in store for them.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked carefully, still afraid of the handsome boy sitting beside her.

"A little alley we're both familiar with. I assume you haven't done your shopping this year." He smiled and slid deeper into his corner of the cab.

"You mean..." she leaned forward to get a better look at him.

He nodded and raised his fingers to his lips, glancing at their muggle driver. She was elated- they were going to Diagon Alley. Man, how she had missed it.

The drive was long, seeing as where they were going from and Hermione soon grew tired. Malfoy offered she lay across the seat, her head in his lap, but considering the compromising nature of the position, both opted for the contrary. Hermione laid her head on her coat, her legs stretching and curling over his lap and soon fell asleep.

As Hermione lay there, beside him, Malfoy began to observe her. Her body was tall, slim, but not at all lanky. She had grown into her body nicely, her legs shapely and her hips round. As the knee-length skirt she wore slowly edged up her legs with each turn the taxi made, Malfoy could see higher and higher up her well-defined legs. They were fair, paler than her arms because of their want for sunlight, but still a creamy, pleasing complexion. He very suddenly had the desire to touch those legs, to see if they were just as creamy and smooth as they appeared.

Glancing around, as if anyone else were in the backseat with them, he nonchalantly rested his arms across her legs, making Hermione stir slightly. His thumb rested against her suntanned ankle and he slowly rubbed back and forth, the skin slightly rough but still soft to touch. He ventured his fingers slowly up her shin, until reaching her knee. The round bend in her leg was slim and defined and easily admired. As he traced the circle of her knee he found that he adored the purity of the small prickles of hair that had been missed in her shave that morning. He exhaled delightedly at the thought of her shaving, gliding her razor across the supple skin. Did he dare venture farther? Slowly, he traced the line of her skirt against her leg, until he found his fingers against the inner thigh, sandwiched between both legs. She shifted and his fingers were pulled further, tensing as the warmth grew nearer. He savored the feeling for a moment until finally catching himself, breath quickening and body reacting to her. He pulled his hand away and rested it against the window, drawing his eyes to her face, where he watched her sleep peacefully for the next twenty minutes.

Malfoy led a still sleepy Hermione out of the cab and down the crowded muggle street, after paying the driver his hefty fee.

Hermione ran ahead of him, suddenly oblivious to everything and everyone other than herself and the fact that she would soon be in Diagon Alley. Malfoy, in fact, had to jog behind her- keeping her mane of hair in view and chuckling at the amount of people temporarily blinded by it striking them in the face.

When Hermione finally made it to the Leaky Cauldron, she regained her sense of Malfoy and waited impatiently for him to join her.

"Geez, Granger, if you could fly as fast as you can run, you'd be Gryffindor's star Quidditch player."

She smiled playfully and grabbed his wrist to pull him further into the small pub. She didn't even look at the other customers; she went straight to the back, moving the bricks correctly to step through and out, into Diagon Alley.

She was in euphoria and Malfoy was glad to see it. He didn't quite know why he was so quick to make her happy; he still had the same child's opinion of her- know-it-all, snobby, and a friend to Harry Potter- but somehow he felt sorry for her, out of her element for so long. He supposed a long time ago that he admired her, if nothing else, and he attributed this uncharacteristic kindness to the admiration he had grown to have for her.

"So, what am I buying first?" Hermione turned to him, smiling widely.

"Well, if you're going to be out in public... with me, no doubt, we'd better get you a good set of robes so you won't be spot the first day you're in hiding."

"Right," Hermione said, "then we'd better get to Gringotts."

"Why?"

"So I can get money to buy those robes we just talked about."

"No, no, if you get money they'll have you on record and everyone will know you took money out of the bank the day you disappeared. I'll buy the robes."

"No, you don't have to..."

"Oh yeah, then how else are we going to buy you anything?"

Hermione frowned in thought. She couldn't come up with an answer.

"Right then, I'll buy what you need. Don't worry, it's not like I'm a refugee and this bit of cash is the difference between my next meal. I could buy custom-made robes for all the yard-gnomes in Europe without my wallet feeling a thing."

"I guess that's true, isn't it?" Hermione said, feeling quite glad to be taking his money all of a sudden.

"Yeah," he answered shortly before pulling her into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

Hermione stood looking at all the wondrous things she could buy with Malfoy's money, realizing slowly that this year could be far from bad.

"Granger," Malfoy whispered urgently, drawing Hermione's attention to the dressing rooms where Malfoy was calling her. She looked at Madam Malkin, absorbed in persuading a robustly wide woman into buying some sort of sheer negligee. She realized that Malfoy didn't want anyone else's notice but hers.

Hermione made her way to Malfoy, curiosity being the only thing from revealing his position. When she was within arm's reach, she said, "Malfoy, what are you-"

But she didn't finish her thought. Malfoy pulled her into the dressing room, pressing his palm against her mouth and edging her into the wall behind them so he could close the door, concealing both.

Hermione's eyes filled with fear- why had she been so fast to trust him? She closed her eyes and could still feel his fingers between her legs, reaching as she tightened her muscles. Opening her eyes again, she met his, staring deep into hers, his hand tightening across her mouth and his body pressing even deeper into hers.

"Granger..." he whispered roughly, with that silky shade that he seemed to never lose.

Hermione made a slight gurgling noise in her throat to let him know she heard.

"Don't do anything without me telling you, do you understand?"

She was becoming more afraid; she nodded and gulped.

"I didn't want anyone knowing we were even in Diagon Alley, let alone Madam Malkin's and you could very easily have blown our cover."

That's what he wanted? she thought. Oh, that was fine. But she really wished he'd let her go- her lips were starting to hurt.

She tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he held her tighter. She moved her hands to his arms, trying to grab them away. The struggle took on a new effect, a sort of game for the two of them. Malfoy pulled her harder towards him, refusing to let her go, and Hermione resisted relentlessly, starting to kick her legs when Malfoy lifted her against the wall to meet his eyes. She stopped fighting and he loosened his grip on her mouth, keeping her at eye level. His breath was ragged and when he spoke the whisper sounded more like a sarcastic exhale.

"Was that fun?"

Hermione nodded in heavy breaths and smiled a laugh.

"Well, I'm glad," he placed her on the ground, "because it was more work than I was prepared for this early."

She shifted her eyebrows at the floor, trying to erase that comment from her mind.

"What are we doing in a dressing room?" she finally asked, the question having been asked in her mind over and over during their tussle.

"We are purchasing some new robes for you." He spoke in a tone of certainty, creating only more puzzlement on the behalf of Hermione. Malfoy moved her out of the way so they were both sideways against the door and back wall. He took a small key from his back pocket and when he moved to place it in the wall, a small keyhole was there, ready for it. He moved the key and the wall opened to reveal a shop both similar and completely unlike Madam Malkin's. It obviously sold robes, the only real similarity between the two, but other than that key feature, the shop was something unique from everything Hermione had previously seen.

The walls were a deep green color, with slight traces of silver and white glinting out of it, giving it a shimmering quality. The robes on display hovered behind the buyer, following them through the store, awaiting purchase.

Malfoy walked straight into the women's department of the wondrous store, Hermione following him, gulping in every detail she could. He approached a hovering robe, one of a slightly silver color with long, slender arms, a tight bodice, and a slightly ruffled skirt.

"This one's nice, isn't it?" Malfoy held one of the sleeves and observed the soft fabric.

"It's beautiful, but I can't see myself wearing it," Hermione said truthfully.

"Oh, I think you could."

In an instant, Hermione was wearing the robe. It fell perfectly, the skirt falling just to her feet and the sleeves holding on to her arms, snug around the mid upper-arm. The neckline was a round v-neck, revealing her delicate collarbone and long neck, along with just enough cleavage to make Malfoy uncomfortable.

"Damn," he whispered, and then spoke a bit louder, "Yeah, you could wear that."

"I am, aren't I?" Hermione heard the words, rather than said them. She spoke in a slightly lowered voice, marveling at her own splendor. Had she ever felt this beautiful? "I don't really like the color though," she decided she wanted to see what all this shop could do.

"What color do you want it?" Malfoy asked, trying to sound innocent.

Hermione started walking towards Malfoy, feeling more powerful than she perhaps ever had. She leaned forward into his ear, and said in a low, distinct voice, "Red."

The gown changed instantly into a deep red, more of a garnet than the glaring red of a fire truck or cherry.

She smiled with satisfaction, feeling even sexier than before. "Let's see," she thought of the numerous ways she could change this dress to fit her body, "why don't we show a bit more leg?"

The robes ended abruptly at the knee, displaying her defined, feminine calves and ankles and small, strappy shoes.

"No," she said, "I want even more leg."

The robes rose even further until they met her mid-thigh, still ruffled femininely.

"Yeah, that's it."

Malfoy tried to pry his eyes from her long legs, but knew it was his soft spot and there was no hope.

"Any changes you would make... Draco?" Hermione asked dangerously.

Malfoy filled the space between them, holding her by the waist and falling back into the shadows of the corner. He felt her smooth face with his hands then ran his fingers down her neck, her shoulders, collarbone and finally brushed into the soft cleavage of her chest. She wrapped one leg around his to pull his body closer, deeper into the molds of her form before bending her face in to kiss his neck softly, probing it with her lips, up, up until she tasted his earlobe softly. It was nearly more than Malfoy could stand and he pulled himself from her, knowing the regret he would feel later.

He said loudly, "I don't like the robes, take it off."

And instantly, Hermione's small dress was replaced with her average school clothes. Thoughts of what she had just done came pouring through her head like an avalanche. Good Lord, she thought, panicking, what did I just do?

Malfoy sighed, relieved beyond his wildest dreams, "That's better," he said softly. The last thing he wanted was to be turned on by Hermione Granger in the middle of a clothing store.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, sounding distinctly disturbed with herself.

"That was a very dirty trick I just played on you," Malfoy said honestly.

Her eyes questioned him furiously.

"That particular kind of robe is designed for the sole purpose of seduction. It kind of controls the inhabitants."

"You mean you just made me seduce you?"

He shrugged honestly. "I figured there shouldn't be any lies between us, since we'll be stuck together for a rather unbearably long period of time," he stopped briefly then looked up at her and continued, "It was the old Malfoy having a little bit of fun with the old Granger."

Hermione pursed her lips in thought and asked, "Then why did you pull away?" she considered her words, "I mean, not that I'm complaining, because that would have been a nightmare... but since you wanted me to be sexy and... stuff, then why didn't you let it do its job?"

"Yeah, I did for a second, then I realized how awkward it would be for the rest our, oh, I don't know, lives."

Hermione nodded, "Yeah, it wouldn't have been good if we had..." she stopped mid-thought. Did she really even need to continue?

"Screwed in public?" Malfoy didn't seem to find the words difficult to say at all.

"More or less," Hermione agreed.

"True, we'll have enough time to do that privately."

She groaned in frustration.

"Just out of curiosity, what makes you think you're going to get any action at all?"

Malfoy smiled devilishly at her, "You just keep bringing it up."

She smacked his arm roughly before turning and walking back to the door they had used to enter this place. She opened the door and found herself in the familiar dressing room in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

Malfoy followed her in, his body pressed against hers for what must have been the millionth time that day.

"Oh, and by the way," Malfoy said softly, before opening the door and walking back out into the store, "You looked really great in there."

She raised an eyebrow subconsciously.

"I mean before you were all sexed out."

He smiled and left the dressing room, leaving Hermione speechless.

End Note: Well, there you go. I told you I have a difficult time with humor- you'll notice the distinct lack thereof in this chapter. Please review and tell me what y'all think so far. Oh dear, I just wrote y'all. I'm doomed.


	5. Baby Talk to an Eagle Owl

Disclaimer: Ditto.

Author's Note: Oh my goodness, I just adore all my lovely reviewers- even if I can count them on one hand. Just the fact that you read it makes me happy inside, the ones who actually liked it make me do a jig in my room and sing the Barney song. Not in public mind you. Anyway, I decided we needed a little plot twist, so that's where this little idea came from. Just me needing a little spice for my story. So, without further ado...

Chapter 5: Baby Talk to an Eagle Owl

By Monday class was in session and the school was in full swing after its trip to Hogsmeade. And deep inside Hogwarts, averted from the eyes of every student, teacher, and creature was someone else settling into the new routine of things. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had spent a relatively discomfited weekend sorting out how they would coexist in the constant company of the other.

Upon entering the room, Hermione was, to be perfectly frank, a little disappointed. She had always imagined a head room to be enormous in size and fulfill every whim and desire of the occupant. Instead, the room she entered upon was of good, though not huge, size and had only a large bed with a canopy in the corner, a comfortable looking, dark green sitting chair, and a round table with two chairs in the opposite corner. She could see a connecting bathroom just off room and was sure that held nothing more than a shower and toilet. She was sure not to voice her reaction and instead treated the room pleasantly and acted as polite as was possible towards Malfoy for allowing her to stay.

They had several problems- one was how she would hide if anyone were to enter the room. This was solved by a fairly simple camouflaging spell Hermione had learned two years earlier. The second was slightly more difficult; where would Hermione sleep? If the room had been large enough, she would have been happy with the sofa, but as there was no sofa, only a small chair and no room to add an additional bed, they were stuck. Finally, Hermione suggested the muggle custom of a sleeping bag on the floor. Malfoy didn't seem too thrilled to have someone on the ground beside his bed, but didn't put up too much of a fight because he certainly didn't want to be the one on the floor.

So, it was settled. Hermione would sleep on the ground beside his bed, so as to hide her from the door in case a professor entered during the night, and Malfoy would continue to sleep on his oversized bed.

School continued normally for Malfoy, and Hermione quickly found things to do while Malfoy was out. Usually, Malfoy would slip into his room between classes to give her his notes so she could continue her studies out of class. She also looked up all the notes he had taken in the weeks before her arrival so she would be caught up. However, when she had nothing to research or do experiments on, she concentrated on a little project of her own- making Malfoy's room meet her expectations.

First came the size. She enhanced the size almost three times and did the same to the bathroom. She then needed things to fill the new space, so she added a large sofa to match the comfy chair and added a kitchen area to match the table. It looked like a little miniature house, and Hermione felt at home. The bathroom had also taken a rather luxurious turn. Instead of the standard format the bathroom had held before, it now held a large, claw foot tub, complete with little Jacuzzi fittings, and a huge, walk in shower that could have doubled for a dance floor, with shower heads pointing at every which angle, to create possibly the greatest feeling known to man. Then there came the vanity. Instead of a simple sink and counter, she created the optimum Get-Ready Center. It had three sinks, each designed for a different purpose, and the countertops would heat or cool, depending on what you placed on it. The mirror also held a little surprise for Malfoy- his very own fashion and beauty consultant. Hermione was most pleased with this feature. There was also a brand new closet in the back of the bathroom that had been inspired by the strange shop Malfoy had taken her during their trip to Diagon Alley. It not only held a multitude of new clothing and robes, but would change the details of whatever you were wearing at your command. Thus, Hermione and Malfoy spent the first two months of coexistence.

On a dark, stormy November night, Hermione was studying up on the most recent goblin rebellions from a book brought to her from the library. Malfoy, quite unexpectedly, came storming into the room, raging stronger than the thunder outside. He threw his robes against the wall and went to the kitchen to pour himself some water, which he swallowed quickly before slamming the glass on to the counter, shattering it into small shards all over the floor. Hermione stood and ran to the glass, picking up pieces under Malfoy's feet as he crossed to the couch and threw himself down, still fuming in rage.

Once the glass had been picked up, Hermione ran to Malfoy's side, stroking his arm gently. Malfoy threw her from him and she skidded across the floor. He looked immediately sorry.

"Hermione..." he stuttered, his cloudy gray eyes shining.

She kneeled and crawled to his side, taking his face in her hands and setting her forehead against his. He was heaving in heavy breaths now, tears catching in his throat before they fell slowly.

"It's okay, Draco..." Hermione cooed, "Just breathe, you'll be fine."

She laid a hand against his chest, as if she could calm his heart merely by touching it. After several minutes of her soothing words, Malfoy had regained his composure and pulled her up to his side on the couch. He pulled her into his lap, so that he held her like a baby, her forehead resting against his cheek. Hermione hadn't a clue what was making her strong companion so upset, but she decided that the only thing to do was play along and try to make him feel a bit better.

"Draco?" Hermione asked softly. After a month, Draco had asked her to call him by his first name, since they were living together and all.

Draco turned his face to meet hers, kissing her softly on the lips, then on the forehead, rocking her head in his hands. It was the first time he had been so intimate with her, and it worried Hermione to the very core of her being.

"Draco?" she asked again, a bit firmer, though disillusioned by the kiss.

"I'm sorry..." he said, his voice sounded like a child that had been disobedient.

"It's okay, Draco, just tell me what's wrong."

He shook his head silently and stood, removing her from him. He paced back and forth along the room, until stopping in front of a wall and placing his hand against it, turning his back from her.

"Draco, you have to tell me," she said sternly.

"Why?" he turned on her. "Why do I have to tell you? It's not like we're bonded by some magical contract that we have to tell each other everything that we do."

"No, but why wouldn't you tell me?" Hermione reasoned, still sitting on the couch. "I sleep a foot away from you, I've memorized your handwriting, and you felt me up in a taxi cab, for goodness sake." Oops, she let it slip.

"You..." his face lost all color and his mouth was suddenly very dry.

Oh well, too late to go back now. "Yes, I was awake. I'm an extremely light sleeper."

"I'll have to remember that in the future," he tried sounding calm.

She smiled, and then remembered what they were talking about. "Anyway, that's not the point, the point is there is nothing you shouldn't be able to tell me and there is nothing I shouldn't be able to tell you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, and since I just let that little secret slip, I guess it's your turn."

He crossed his arms sullenly.

"Oh come on, two hours ago you came in here all rainbows and sunshine, what could possibly have fazed the debonair Slytherine king so much as that?"

"My father," he said softly.

Hermione was taken aback by this response. It was not something she had anticipated.

"Oh God, Draco, I am so sorry," she stood and walked to him, taking his arm again.

"No, I'm sorry," he said, pulling away from her.

"What do you mean?" Her eyes were widening in fear and she swallowed hard.

Draco let out a little sob.

"He knows about you," he managed to get out.

"What?" Hermione gasped and crumpled to the ground. "How could you?" she screamed between her tears. Her world was slowly crumbling around her and the only stationary being was the silver-blonde boy standing in front of her. She stood carefully, trying to steady herself on the wall, until she got to Draco and struck him hard across the face. He remained still.

"I deserved that," he said softly.

Hermione was coming to her senses and questions came pouring into her brain like a drainpipe.

"Wait, how did he find out? What did you do?"

Malfoy sat on the couch and Hermione joined him, keeping her distance this time.

"I was returning from Advanced Astrology and I was running rather fast... to see you, in fact..." he looked up at her and smiled quickly, "and as I turned the corner on to the ground stairs... do you know where I'm talking about?"

"Yes."

"Well, I turned and ran straight into my father. Apparently, he came to discuss something with Dumbledore."

"Go on."

"Well, unbeknownst to you, he made a little stop in my room on his way to Dumbledore."

"How? I've been in here all night, I would have known."

Draco shook his head, trying to clear his mind, "No, he didn't just come in. You wouldn't have been able to tell."

"What? Does he have an invisibility cloak? Or a camouflaging spell?" Hermione wished more than anything that Draco would just cut to the chase.

"Did an owl come for me while I was in class?"

"Yeah, your eagle owl..." her eyes lit in understanding. "You mean, that thing is..." her body was quaking uncontrollably. She had been so fooled.

"My daddy," he sputtered out in disgust.

"Good Lord, Draco, I saw it and I didn't think anything. I even talked to it in a little baby voice."

"You didn't."

"Oh, I did."

Draco rubbed his eyes, obviously overwhelmed.

"Well," Hermione said, calm returning to her, "What's he going to do to me?"

"Hard to say," Draco said, returning his hands to his eyes, "he certainly didn't tell Dumbledore you were here, so it can't be anything legally or in other ways acceptable."

"Oh, great, just what I need."

"We've still got time, Hermione. My dad won't move until he knows he's scared the living shit out of us both."

"Will he kill me?" she asked it as if it made no difference in the world. It didn't seem to matter how much time she had, or where he would take her or anything of the sort, the only thing she wanted to know was what exactly she should expect.

"Yes, undoubtedly." Draco said, with the same straightness held by Hermione, "Eventually, he will kill you."

"Eventually, you say?" Hermione perked.

"Yeah, well, there will inevitably be a period of torture. Probably hitting all the main points- mental, emotional, sexual... the list continues."

"How is it that you are such a comfort to me, Draco?" she smiled warmly and stood, hitting him upside the head before going to the refrigerator on the wall.

Draco stood and joined her, leaning his elbows on the low counter.

"Why do you always hit me?" he asked after a moment.

She turned, trying to formulate an answer.

"I've thought about it a lot, because it seems to be a tendency of mine to hit people, and I think I've figured it out."

"Ooh," Draco said, standing erect, "do tell."

"I'm an affectionate person; you know, I like to touch. But, when I don't know the person well enough to stroke or caress, I end up hitting, because it's the only form of touching I can get away with."

"That. Is. So. Deep." Draco laughed and put his arms around her waist, and she fit her arms around his neck. "I think you know me well enough to stroke... and caress." He bent his face forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, kissing down the bridge of her nose and finally hitting her lips, looking her in the eyes before completing the kiss.

It began gently, then moved into a hungry invasion, Draco rocking Hermione gently in his arms as his tongue battled hers in a sultry dance. Hermione twisted her fingers through his hair, and pulled him deeper. Draco collected her bum in his arms and set her on the counter beside them, and she wrapped her long legs around his waist, raising her head and it tilting it back. Draco kissed her long neck above him, and caressed his lips down to her collarbone, directly level with his lips. Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttoned her blouse, until it was open down to her belly button.

Hermione gasped and gripped the refrigerator for balance while holding on to Draco's hair with her other hand.

"Draco," she moaned urgently, trying to fight the heat and passion she felt.

"Oh, Hermione," he returned.

"No," she struggled to get her mind off of his lips, tried desperately to release the need she felt and hold on to the reality of the situation, "I'm engaged to Harry..." she sighed inaudibly. She repeated it again and again, more to reassure herself than to stop Draco. "I'm engaged to Harry!" she finally screamed.

Draco released his lips from her breast and looked up at her, shaking with desire and anger.

"You are, aren't you?" he breathed.

"Yes," she sighed quietly. How she hated the fact at that moment, but there was nothing to be done.

"Well," he said, desperately trying to calm himself, "best get you down then."

She nodded and he helped her down, allowing himself to feel her body slide down his and savor it for the brief moment that it lasted.

"I think I'm going to take a shower," she said, "I'm rather tired after all this."

"Likewise," he said, making his way to the couch and lying down, sleep quickly overcoming him.

End Note: Sorry if that part was a tad sudden, as I explained earlier, I was getting bored and I needed a little something.


	6. Several Compromising Positions

Disclaimer: Lalala!

Author's Note: This next bit has some very graphic stuff, just to warn you. Oh, and does anyone else share my pain in moving? I'm moving right now and I've realized that packing is the devil. I'm not kidding- it is the devil incarnate. I mean, packing is so stupid- you put all of your belongings into boxes and then, what, 24 hours later, you take all those same belongings out of their boxes. I mean, I understandthe necessity for it, but honestly, could it be more annoying?

Thank you from the deepest fathoms of my heart to my reviewers, and thank you so much, those who had suggestions. I'm sorry for speeding the time frame so considerably, taking like one paragraph with two months. I will try to be more thorough. I thought you all might be getting bored. Woops, you do not want to hear (or read, whatever) me talk. Love you all!!

Chapter 6: Several Compromising Positions

Hermione left the bathroom with her hair in a tight French braid and her plaid pajamas. She saw Malfoy sleeping on the couch, a distraught expression on even his sleeping face. She stretched herself on top of him and brushed his hair from his face, kissing each closed eye in succession.

"Draco," she said softly. Obviously, he was a light sleeper as well; his eyes were open nearly before she said his name.

He sat up and she got off of him.

"Listen, Draco, I know it might be weird after what happened tonight, but would you mind if I slept in your bed?" Yes, she knew it would be awkward and all through her shower she was thinking of it. But, what was more important, the security she felt in his arms when the threat of Lucius Malfoy was so close, or avoiding the sexual tension that was liable to follow them anyway?

"That's fine, I'll sleep on the couch."

"That's not what I mean," she took his hand and stroked her fingers across his palm. "I want you to be there with me."

He nodded in understanding of her plea.

They approached the bed and looked down at it- it was a danger zone for sure. All they could do was contemplate it, standing on opposite sides, unable to get in or look each other in the eyes.

"Okay, I have a solution," Draco said, finally looking at Hermione.

She met his eyes. "I'd like to hear it."

Draco created a long body pillow in midair and plopped it into the center of the bed.

"There, no physical contact."

Hermione smiled and crawled into her side. She could just see the side of Draco's face and his soft hair cascading across it.

"Good night, Draco," she said softly, yawning enormously.

"Good night, Hermione."

She curled herself against the pillow, tucking one leg and arm under it while clutching her other limbs atop it. Draco did the same and smiled after a time of lying there as he could feel her toes kneading his calf rhythmically in sleep. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and soon was asleep himself.

Hermione lay upon a hard, metal table, as if in a muggle operating room. She lay helpless as she saw the beautiful Lucius Malfoy, the spitting image of his son in an older form, grace towards her. There were no words, nothing but silence until she felt his smooth, strong hand upon her foot, pulling it to the corner of the table. Suddenly a loud, mechanical shriek filled the air, slicing the silence.

Hermione squirmed to a sitting position to see a muggle screwdriver whirring in Lucius' free hand, the other with a strong grip on her left foot. The screwdriver was lowered slowly and horrifyingly to her ankle, and Hermione screamed out in terror. She clawed the metal with her short fingernails and kicked with all the strength she possessed, but Lucius was infinitely stronger than she and won the battle without so much as a struggle on his part. The pain was sudden and intense. She could feel the thrumming sharpness of the thick screw drive into skin, eating away at her flesh slow and grisly. Then it struck her bone and she could hear the crushing, grinding movements more than feel them. Her mind had gone blank in pain and it was so overwhelming that she couldn't even scream or cry, simply lie there blankly, unable to believe what was happening to her. She then felt the screw hit the table beneath her foot and knew that she was more or less trapped.

Lucius moved on to do the same to the other leg and then both of her wrists, pinning and trapping her against the table, unable to escape him.

He then climbed on top of her, straddling her hips. He tore at her clothing, revealing her bare breasts and fondled them unmercifully. He tore her crotch open before unzipping himself. There were no soft touches or loving movements, but simple and pure hate, physically created. He plunged into her so violently that she screamed from the very pit of her soul and allowed salty, blood stained tears to fall from her face and down her naked flesh.

As he rocked back and forth, digging in and out of her, growing larger and harder, tearing her flesh with every movement, he took a long, thin dagger from the inner folds of his robes and slowly, with each thrust cut her. First making a clean, smooth line above each breast, then below; he continued with the lines of her stomach, then jabbed above her collarbone, and ran the blade to her neck. The blood flowed so thickly that her senses became blinded by it entering her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. She could feel her lungs fill with her own blood and she fought painfully for breath. Through a veil of red, she could see the damnable face of Lucius Malfoy lift the dagger high above her; she knew it would be for the final plunge.

The dagger rose in slow motion and she felt her flesh start to melt from her own blood, sweat, and tears. She clenched her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of the dagger plunge into her heart. And as she felt the blade penetrate her flesh, just between the tops of her ribcage, she bolted awake, screaming at the top of her lungs, tears cascading down her face.

Draco had been awoken by his companion's soft whimpers. He leaned over the body pillow that separated them to see Hermione's body drenched in sweat, crying softly, her left leg twitching horribly. He threw the pillow aside and tried desperately to wake her.

He whispered her name, but there was no response. He shook her and she only seemed to be more stricken with terror at his touches. Slowly, he began to panic; Hermione was never so agitated as this- even in her sleep. He straddled her, shaking her shoulders violently, trying with all his might to call her out of her darkness.

She continued to rock in her sleep, her cries becoming louder and more alarming. Draco ran to his sink, and poured the largest glass he had full with water, then ran back to Hermione, drenching her in the cool water, only making her shiver and shake harder.

Finally, since none of his efforts were making a bit of difference, he sat against the headboard and took the shaking Hermione in his arms, rocking her softly and making as soothing of sounds as he could muster. He was terrified by this- what could she possibly be dreaming that was as horrible as this?

After what seemed like an eternity of her cries growing louder and more terrified and her tears falling like raindrops in the previous night's storm, she awoke, bolting forward, making Draco hold on tighter than ever.

She was sobbing uncontrollably and everything she said was completely inaudible. She clutched Draco to her and wept into his chest until the dream, the reality, had passed.

"What was it?" he asked softly.

Exhausted, Hermione answered gently, "Your father."

"A Lucius Malfoy dream is never good." Draco tried to laugh, but found the unhappy girl in his arms created a lump in his throat when the laugh tried to escape.

"Hermione, what was it?"

Hermione let out a soft sob once more.

"He..." she had to, she told herself. The only way she could live through this dream would be to tell Draco exactly what had happened. "There was a muggle electric screwdriver... and... he screwed my foot to a table. Both of my feet... and my hands..." she sobbed into his chest awhile longer before beginning again. "Then he climbed on top of me and... and... he... he..." Why was this the part of the dream she hated most? He killed her, for goodness sake, but, no, that's not what bothered her.

"Did he rape you?" Draco asked quietly.

Hermione nodded, more relaxed now that he had said it. Yes, that was all he had done. Just raped her, nothing more gruesome or horrible than that. Yet, did one have such a disgustingly sinister look on his face when he raped? She remembered his eyes, and there had been no pleasure, the only pleasure he found were her screams and tears and blood.

"And then?" he asked tentatively.

"Then he..." she reached her hands to her breasts, feeling that they were there. "He cut my breasts off."

Draco winced and looked at her breasts, just as relieved as she was.

"He cut me all over, with this long dagger that was so sharp. I was melting into the table and screaming so loud and finally, he just killed me." She ended the statement in such a factual way, it was hard for Draco to take in the effect of what she had said.

"You dreamt of my father killing you?"

Hermione nodded, but this time the tears did not return. She was warm in Draco's arms and felt safe. She brought her hands to his hand that had a death grip on her arm, making sure not to let her go. She squeezed his hand gently, and rested her soaking wet head against his chest once more. Draco rested his chin on the top of Hermione's head, closing his eyes at the beauty of the moment.

"Draco?" Hermione asked quietly, slowly falling into a more peaceful sleep.

"Yes?"

"Don't let me go."

"Never."

They woke the next morning in the same position- Hermione curled tightly in Draco's arms and Draco holding on to her tightly. Though instead of sitting innocently against the headboard, they were curled under the blankets, lying sideways on the bed, unable to see the morning sunlight when it filtered into the room.

Hermione turned in Draco's arms, still fixed to him like glue. "Draco," Hermione kissed his forehead lightly, "it's time to wake up. You have class."

Draco's lids fluttered and he caught her lips in a quick kiss before yawning awake and freeing her from his arms. They both sat up in bed, realizing that they had spent the night curled together in a bed. The inferences could be lethal.

Draco went into the bathroom and returned in clothing- tight, gray pants and a black turtleneck.

"You look absolutely smashing," Hermione laughed as he caught her around the shoulder and walked to the kitchen.

"What should we have for breakfast?" he asked, opening the refrigerator.

"You're not going to the Great Hall?" she was taken aback.

Draco shook his head, "I'd rather be here."

She smiled to herself, and then joined him in the refrigerator, gathering the ingredients for pancakes.

They shared a happy breakfast together at the small table, talking about anything but the night before and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

"Draco?" Hermione asked as they were cleaning their dishes.

"Hermione?" he retorted.

"Would you mind if I came to class with you?" she muttered under her breath.

He stepped back and looked at her, narrowing his eyes and gathering his eyebrows quizzically.

"I just really don't want to spend the day alone... and..." she averted her eyes as much as she could, "I'm going die, so what have I got to lose?"

Malfoy thought for a moment then nodded, "That's true. How will you do it? Camouflaging spell?"

"I guess so."

"It's just so detectable if you're not still."

"I guess I know something else that could conceal me," she made circles with her toes, slightly ashamed of the thought.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Harry has an...um... invisibility cloak."

"What are you suggesting? Stealing Potter's cloak?" Draco looked at Hermione and when she made no denial, he gasped in astonishment. "Hermione, I am shocked. That's the last thing I need- Draco Malfoy sneaking into Potter's room and stealing one of his most valuable possessions."

"Who said you would get it?" Hermione asked innocently.

"You're going to get it?" his face revealed further alarm. "That's even more shocking."

"I've been thinking that I really need to talk to Harry as it is, and I think this will be the perfect opportunity." Draco didn't seem convinced; as it was, he seemed more upset. "Oh come on, I'm going to die, remember?"

"Fine," Draco drawled, turning away from her. "How are you going to get to Potter?"

"Your first class is with him, right?"

"Yes."

"Then, I'll use the camouflaging spell just to that class, I'll walk beside you against the wall, so that it will be a little harder to see me, then I'll... just talk to him."

"Oh yeah, that'll work. He'll shout your name all over the place."

"I'll tell him to be quiet," she assured him.

"Whatever, if you're caught, you're not with me."

"No, I know. Don't worry." Hermione's plan was perfectly formulated and ready to be put in action.

"What the hell!" Harry shouted in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Shh," Hermione's voice whispered in his ear. "I promise it's me."

"Hermione?" Harry's voice seemed like it was going to break.

"Keep it together, Man," she said in a dignified voice, "I just need your help."

"Anything..." he was trying not to lose focus of his professor at the front of the room, but was finding it difficult, with his fiancée's voice in his head.

"What's the Gryffindor password?" she breathed, terrified of revealing herself.

"Tea leaves tell no lies."

"What?" her voice returned to normal at this bit of news.

"Shh," he whispered urgently, when a few heads turned his direction. "Lavender's prefect this year."

"Oh, great," Hermione breathed sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know," Harry allowed himself a quick giggle at the thought. "Anything else?"

"Do you know what Malfoy has next class?"

"Ancient Cultures," Harry said after a moment of thought, "Why?"

"No reason."

Hermione placed a quick kiss on the top of his head, "Thanks, Harry."

"I love you," Harry whispered.

"Mm hmm," was all she could manage before running out the door, causing quite the disturbance among the students and giving Draco quite the cause to panic.

End Note: Again, I am sorry for that torture bit. I didn't even realize how bad it was going to be until I was in the middle of writing it and I was like, holy crap, I'm describing a pointed, metal object being driven through a person's flesh and bone. Ewe. On a happy note, I finally figured out what the title is going to be. Not quite as funny or strange as I originally planned, but effective nonetheless. Yippee!


	7. Hero and Leander Strange, No?

Disclaimer: No, I DO own Harry Potter. How does that grab ya?

Author's Note: Another thanks to my reviewers! I am afraid I am not going to thank you quite so eloquently as I had in the chapters before, but that is because, if you haven't noticed, I don't like repeating myself. I do feel very very genuinely thankful to all of you for reading though.

Okay, for completely off-topic news- I am in my new house!!! No more boxes, I'm free! So, I am now in my matchbox of a room, at my computer which is a comfortable two inches from my bed, bookshelf, and TV, leaving exactly one square-foot of standing space... but still, I'm happy.

Chapter 7: Hero and Leander- Strange, No?

Being in Harry's room brought a bittersweet avalanche of old memories to Hermione. She sorted through his chest and saw the small box that held the engagement ring he had given her; along with an old planner she had given him fifth year. She sat upon his bed, recalling the few weeks before her departure that they had spent together every night, sleeping in the other's arms. She felt a pang of guilt as she recalled that she had done the same with Draco Malfoy just last night.

She enjoyed Harry's company; he was her best friend and always had been. When he had proposed she remembered the thought that she would always have that relationship- that friendship would sail her through life and she would have no other worries. And for that simple fact she loved him- she loved him just as she loved Ron- as a dear and cherished friend. Perhaps the distance between them lately was what was keeping her from seeing the romantic aspect of her relationship with Harry. Perhaps not.

Eventually, after fishing fruitlessly through his chest, she rolled on to his bed in frustration, laying her head against a silky substance that seemed more like soft liquid then real fabric. Turning, she saw, emerging from under his pillow, a corner of the incandescent invisibility cloak.

Squealing with glee, she pulled the cloak out and wrapped it tightly around herself, shuddering in satisfaction at her achievement, then, noticing the time she panicked quickly and made her way back down the stairs, into the Common Room and out the portrait hole to find Draco in Ancient Cultures.

"I didn't even know they had an Ancient Cultures class," Hermione whispered, following Draco closely until they entered his room, in which Hermione removed the invisibility cloak graciously.

"It's a new edition this year. Apparently this guy came to Dumbledore and basically said, 'hey, I have a key to the past, you want it?' and Dumbledore said yes."

"Really?" she asked sarcastically.

"Basically."

"So, you're on ancient Greece at the moment?" she asked as she sorted through his homework, looking for anything interesting.

"We've been on ancient Greece from the beginning. I think I know more about Sparta then anyone could possibly need to know."

"Have you gotten to the mythology?" Hermione asked nonchalantly, still half of her attention on Draco's papers. "They're the best part of antiquity."

"We've looked over a few, and they've come up, but we haven't spent much time on them specifically," he had by now removed his robes and was lying on the couch, his feet propped up on the arm, gazing at Hermione intently. "Not that it matters, I've studied enough mythology on my own time to fill the head of any great historian."

"Really?" she suddenly seemed interested.

"Oh yeah," he said casually, "Especially throughout my fifth and sixth years I became really interested."

"I've always loved myths, especially Greek, but I could suck up any kind."

"Oh yeah? What's your favorite?"

"My favorite myth?" she asked, surprised by the sudden request. She wrinkled her face in thought before answering. "Well, the Odyssey, if you count it as one big myth is incredible. Other than that, I always love the story of Persephone- how she lives half the year in darkness, half the year in light. She gains control of so much by mere chance, you know? I mean, she controls the weather and Earth through her mother and she controls the underworld through her husband. She's one of the most powerful but overlooked figures in all of mythology."

"Wow," he said, "it's not like it was a test. I was just curious."

"Sorry," she blushed slightly at her analytical answer. "So," she looked back to him, still lying on the sofa, "what's your favorite myth?"

"You want an answer of the same caliber?"

"A little," she said, sitting on the pool table, "to make me less embarrassed if anything."

"Hero and Leander."

"You mean you've thought of this before?" she asked incredulously.

"Ever since I read it it's been my favorite."

She just stared at him, her eyebrow raised nearly into her hair.

"It's so tragic," he explained, raising himself to a sitting position. "I mean, there's no real deeper level than that- just it's pure tragedy and yet, lighthearted at the same time. It tells like a good book, you know? Here they are, two lovers, who don't just stand around moping because they can't be together- they take action; they make it work until the only thing that stands in their way is death."

"Isn't it kind of sissy?" she asked, after he seemed finished.

"A little," he acquiesced, shrugging it off. Then he stood and made his way towards her. "But, no matter who you are, whether you're the biggest, baddest guy around, you can't deny the feeling of a broken heart, whether it's your heart, or one you're witnessing."

His hands were on either side of Hermione, still sitting atop the pool table, and he leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips.

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione sighed, pulling away from him, "are you trying to seduce me?"

"Only a little," he said as he kissed her again.

His lips tingled at the touch and upon impact Hermione could feel the electricity pulsing through her body. As his lips and tongue mingled with hers, she wrapped her legs around his body, pulling him closer and closer into her. His hands felt smooth, practically liquid against her bare legs as he reached up into her shorts, kneading the skin with his fingers.

The light was dim in the room and Hermione could make out Draco's features, radiant in the shadows, every muscle and bone curved and perfected. His cheekbones arched perfectly on his statuesque face as she watched his face a mere inch from hers as he kissed her. Desire ran throughout Hermione's body like lightning and, as her breath hastened, she reached down to pull his tight turtle neck over his head, exposing his chiseled chest and arms- glowing like marble in the darkness.

Hermione backed up on the pool table, beckoning him with her eyes. He crawled atop it gracefully, straddling her with his hips as she lowered herself on to her back. His fingers undid the buttons on her blouse smoothly, rhythmically, and within moments the shirt was discarded on the ground. His fingers ran from her hips up her sides, gliding over the indents of her ribs until they cupped the sides of her bra, sending a tingling sensation down Hermione's spine.

Hermione bent forward, filling Draco's lips with hers as she led his willing fingers to her back to unclasp her bra. He did so swiftly and was soon bent, covering her fresh breasts with soft, gentle kisses before sucking in, hungry and ravenous. Hermione moaned and leaned up into him, grinding her hips into his, the feel of him sending her into a craze.

Draco reached his hand out to the sides of the pool table, finding the chalk presently. He dipped his fingers into the chalk, a dark blue shining in the darkness. He lifted his hand to her throat, which he ran the chalk down, making a clean line to her naval. It looked to him like an Amazon marking- vicious and brave. He dipped his fingers in once more and made wide marks across her stomach, circling her belly button slowly. She reached for the chalk in his hand and, covering her fingers thickly in it, reached for his face to make four streaks on either cheek. They were the markings of a warrior and the image took her breath away.

They went on marking each other, him painting her breasts and shoulders with delicate lines, her drawing intricate markings across his chest and down his back. They enjoyed each other's body artfully, claiming it as their own before consuming each other in a passionate embrace. He slipped his hands into the elastic of her shorts and smoothly removed them before leading her hands to his own pants. She undid the button and slid the zipper down, shaking in anticipation as she felt him beneath her hands. And it was at that moment that the unthinkable happened. A knock came at the door.

End Note: I know this chapter was unbearably shorter than the others, but I really couldn't pass up ending at a cliffhanger like that. Also, I apologize that the only real thing that happened in this chapter was sex, though not actual sex... anyway, you know what I mean. I usually dislike it when authors put in a ton of sex and no plot, and that's exactly what I just did. Apologies all around! My dad just got back from Canada because we may be moving there. I'm excited and happy he's back. They (or you, if you're Canadian) have cute money. I like the little pictures, like the one with the little boys playing hockey. It's just plain cute.


	8. Two Very Dejected Young Men

Disclaimer: Agubwa! Khachaturian! Qetsiquadal! Marquesas! Amalgam!

Author's Note: Another big huge thanks and hug to all my reviewers. You are the wind beneath my wings... and my fingers as I type what seems like endlessly these days, what with having three stories in the making. Check out my other stories: Clue and Deathtrap. Neither are quite as romantic as these, but they're funnier, at least Clue is. Anyway, sorry for being an advertisement. Don't mean to be. As for the disclaimer, some of those are real words; others are total gibberish. Okie dokie, here's the next installment...

Chapter 8: Two Very Dejected Young Men

Hermione raised her head, shocked at the disturbance and held on to Draco tighter in surprise. He moaned and gasped to Hermione that she needed to get off of him in order for him to retain any manner of composure. She apologized and was presently off of him, struggling to find her feet and clothing. It took a staggering 30 seconds for the two of them to be fully dressed and Hermione quickly ran to the bathroom as Draco moved to the door. He made a gurgle from the back of his throat, testing to see if his voice would permit him to be natural to his common form. He ran a hand through his hair and opened the door slowly.

Hermione could hear his voice from the outer room and, though she could make out no words, found the tone quite enough to disclose the situation. Someone desperately wanted in and Draco was quite obstinate in not allowing entrance. To her great dismay the voice of the person in question was quite inaudible to her and she could make out no identity. Draco spoke louder and clearer with each statement and it seemed the louder he got the more muted the intruder became.

After disguising herself with a camouflaging spell, Hermione sat on the bathroom tile and pressed her face against the door, straining with all her might to hear what was going on. Once she had found a comfortable position it was no more than a few seconds until she heard the palpable sound of footsteps across the room towards the bathroom. She slid backwards with her feet, narrowly missing the door that came swinging before her.

However hard she may have endeavored to remain silent, the shock that entered the bathroom produced a gasp so clear the people on the opposite wall would have heard her. Harry Potter looked down at the tile that had just gasped and thrust out a hand, striking Hermione across the nose.

"Hermione?" he asked, grabbing on to her invisible hair.

Hermione kept quiet, struggling frantically to release herself from his hold. The more she pulled, the tighter his grasp got and she soon found that it was much more trouble to struggle than to stay still, which she eventually resolved to do.

Harry kneeled where he thought her to be, landing heavily on her foot, causing a minor discomfort for all involved.

"Hermione," Harry said gently, stroking the unseen hair and face, "please undo the spell. I want to see you."

Hermione gazed forward into the face that had always brought her such comfort and consolation, but which now seemed a frightening specter.

"Harry," she whispered, still under her spell and trying to remain still. "Harry, please don't do anything rash..."

"Rash?" he sputtered, "Rash? No, Hermione, I won't do anything rash, not until you explain to me why the bloody hell you're in my nemesis' dorm room at midnight!" The statement had begun calmly, but led into a slight crescendo and ended in a blasting roar, complete with spit and all.

"Harry," Hermione said, trying to remain calm, "I refuse to undo the spell until you calm down and let go of my hair..." after a thought she added, "and where is Draco?"

"Draco?" he continued in his dramatic bellow, "Draco! You dare to ask me about Draco?"

"Harry," Hermione sat cross-legged and assumed the tone of voice she had always used when reprimanding him for his inattentiveness in class or lack of responsibility, "there is no reason to lose your temper like this. I was merely asking a simple question that required a simple, sound answer."

Harry detached himself from her hair and sat back against the door. As he regained his breath, Hermione thought it safe to reveal herself, which she did presently. Her appearance made a bit of an impression on him, what with the blue chalk stains along her legs, arms, and neck. His jaw dropped at her wild appearance.

She stood, held out a hand to help him up and led him out to the main room only to a meet a rather unkempt Draco lying face down on the floor.

"What did you do?" she turned to Harry accusatorially.

"I hit him," he muttered softly as he fidgeted with his robe.

Hermione bent to lift Draco, who had a dazed expression on his face and smiled confusedly at Hermione.

"Sit down, Draco," she said as she led him to the couch.

"Okay," he said as he plopped down on the couch beside Harry.

Hermione performed a quick spell to return him to his normal state. He looked at Harry, obviously more than a little perturbed and then back at Hermione who stood over the two of them in a rather dictatorial manner.

"Now," she said, looking from one to another, "would you care to tell me what happened out here while I was in the bathroom?"

They both spoke simultaneously pointing fingers animatedly and making wild hand gestures to describe the events.

"Harry first," she said after silencing them.

Harry smiled contentedly.

"Well," he started, "I couldn't hardly think after you had snuck up on me in DADA this morning and I looked everywhere for you and the only thing I could think of was the fact that you had asked what Malfoy's next class was. I decided to check his place out to see if you were here. When I knocked he answered rudely, obviously, and told me to go away. He looked... disturbed... and for a moment I thought that wise as well. I mean, I'm not one to intrude on people's business," he paused for a moment to look from Draco to Hermione, gathering his thoughts once more. "Anyway, I decided to mention your name at least, in case he knew where you were. He had a decidedly suspicious reaction to your name-"

"I said I didn't know-"Draco interrupted.

"Draco," Hermione warned, then gestured to Harry to continue.

"As I was saying," Harry continued, "he seemed suspicious when I mentioned your name, so I asked if I could come in, quite calmly I might add, and he said absolutely not and tried to slam the door in my face. Well, that didn't go well, and I held it open. Obviously he was hiding something from me. So, I asked once more and he became enraged, threatening me with all sorts of curses and dangers to everyone I loved..."

"Now, wouldn't you say that's a bit of an exaggeration?" Draco asked, looking straight at Harry.

Harry shrugged and continued.

"After threatening me, he pulled his wand and, since I knew it was too late to get my wand, I punched him, knocking him flat on his face. He's kind of a wimp," Draco turned, disgusted, at the comment. Harry continued, "So, after he fell on the ground, I proceeded to look around the dorm, entering the bathroom to hear you and then discover your identity, which led us here."

Hermione stared at him, lips pursed, eyes squinted and arms crossed sardonically.

"Okay," she said after a moment, "Draco, your turn."

"Well," he said, puffing his chest and collecting his thoughts. "I opened the door, as you know, after you left for the bathroom, to see Potter. Now, Potter was quite a sight at the door- his eyes were dilated in fury and his fists were clenched- he was positively looking for a fight," he paused to let the full affect of the words sink in. "Well, after I commented that it was rather late to be storming the castle, Potter made a couple of rude remarks, none very clever, I might add, and brutally tried to force me out of the way. I held strong, telling him that it was far too late for tea time and that he could admire me in class the next day."

"Ver batum," Harry stated, sounding more or less impressed.

"Anyway, as I was saying, he continued to attempt to enter against my will until finally, hulk-like, he threw me from the door, in which I hit my head against the pool table, becoming more or less dippy. And then I woke up here on the couch, beside Hyde here, and looking up into your beautiful face." It seemed no scenario was too severe for Draco to miss the opportunity to flirt.

Hermione smiled for a moment, caught up in his silvery eyes, before being dragged from her daze by Harry.

"Hello, lover boy, that's my future wife you're talking to!" he boxed Draco across the side of the head, sending a wave of guilt through the both of them. Hermione smiled at Harry, as if assuring him he had done a noble thing.

"Well," Hermione said, considering her men, sitting on the couch, "It seems you both have quite contradicting stories and, though I'm not saying either of you lied, I have my doubts as to the full truth of both of your testaments. So, I will rely on my version of the events, which was quite simply this- Harry wanted to come in, Draco didn't want him to come in and so Harry hit him to get in... and then got in. Do we all agree on that?"

They nodded simultaneously.

"Okay, then, next on the agenda," Hermione pulled a chair forward and sat backwards, resting her chin on the back and looking at them intently. "Harry, why again are you here?"

"I wanted to see you," he said softly, his eyes rounding to the most pathetic size imaginable.

"Okay, I guess we'll take that," she said. "Now, since it's very late I think Harry should get back to bed and maybe we can continue this little conversation in the morning," she looked at Draco with her plans for the evening written plainly all over her face.

"I quite agree," Draco said, locking eyes with Hermione and pushing Harry forcefully across the room, knocking to the ground.

"Wait," Harry protested loudly, both irritated and confused by the recent and apparently impending events. "I happen to have a few questions for the two of you!"

"Sorry," Draco said, opening the door expectantly, "it'll have to wait for morning."

"Yup," Hermione said, lifting him to his feet.

"No," Harry said, shrugging Hermione violently off. "I refuse to go until I get some answers!"

Draco slowly closed the door, realizing sadly that the night was not going to end according to plan.

"Fine, Potty, sit down and ask your little questions."

Hermione sat again in her chair, facing Harry and Draco stood above her, leaning with one hand on her shoulder.

"Malfoy," Harry hissed shiftily, "I would appreciate it if you removed yourself from my fiancée."

Hermione looked up at him and nodded, to which he removed his hand, pulling up a second chair and sitting similarly to her.

"Okay," Hermione asked, "Fire away."

Harry straightened himself and smoothed his robes nervously, "Well," he said, "to start, what is that all over you?"

They looked at each other and suddenly saw the chalk marks that had looked so beautiful a mere twenty minutes before. Now, they realized the markings were more of what could be seen on a child's coloring book than the body of an Amazon queen. Hermione stiffened and stifled a small giggle. Draco smiled, quietly amused.

"Um," Hermione ran the words through her mind, and no matter how she said it, there was no way to make it sound any less silly. "It's chalk."

"What, like sidewalk chalk?" Harry asked, a look of puzzlement smearing his already edgy demeanor.

"No," Hermione said, her voice lifting slightly.

"Then..." Harry looked at the two of them, who were both clearly averting their eyes from the pool table. He looked at the table, then back at them, then back at the table. The comprehension hit like a mighty revelation dropped from the heavens, lights blazing and a thousand-voice choir resonating a single penetrating note.

"You didn't!" he spat, turning violently from one to the other. When there was no denial, he let out a wild shriek and his body convulsed momentarily before he covered his face with his arms in shame and curled into the fetal position, rocking back and forth, obviously traumatized.

"Oh dear," Draco said quietly before turning to the sink.

"What are you doing?" Hermione turned and asked him, ignoring the whimpering young man on her couch.

"Making tea," Malfoy said while placing the teapot on the stove.

Hermione shrugged and turned back to Harry, trying to grasp the situation. Okay, she thought, I've cheated on my fiancée with his mortal enemy and have been found out, feeling no remorse or guilt whatsoever. Well, a little, but not as much as I should. And now my fiancée is huddled in an inconsolable heap. Oh dear.

"Harry," Hermione cooed, "Harry, look at me."

Harry shook his head stubbornly.

"Harry..." Hermione tried to pry his hands from his face, but he would not budge, "Harry..." she got in front of him on the couch, grabbing at his hands while he waved her away. "Harry, look at me!" she shouted, demanding the attention of both men.

Harry peaked his eyes above his arms.

"Harry," Hermione said in a soft voice, "I know that what you have seen is traumatic and scarring, but I think that if we talk about it- calmly and rationally- we can work all those feelings out." She sounded like some kind of psychiatrist, working with a paranoid lunatic. "Does that sound okay?" she asked him in her preschool voice.

He nodded slowly and removed his arms from his tear-stained face and sat cross-legged on the couch, facing her, again in her chair.

"Hermione," he said, sounding much more collected, "I need to know first, before anything else, do you love him?"

Her eyes widened at the word, and behind her, she could hear several teacups plummet to the ground and shatter, followed by a shriek as the boiling hot tea splashed up on Draco's legs.

"Malfoy?" she asked.

"No," Harry said scathingly, "Mark Twain."

Hermione sucked a breath in before answering.

"No," she waved a hand in front of her as if swatting a fly, "No, I don't _love_ Draco Malfoy." She paused a moment, staring off at her feet distantly before turning back to Harry, "That would be _crazy_!"

"Oh," Harry said, "So, it was just wild animal sex that drove you two together?!"

"I wouldn't call it animal," Draco said, approaching from behind and handing out the tea.

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that," Harry stammered.

"Look, Harry," Hermione said, taking one of his hands, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." The distinct lack of sincerity in her voice was a slight turn-off to Harry at the moment, "I just... didn't know what I was doing."

"How long have you been with him?" Harry asked, his mouth a pronounced bitter line.

"About two months," she said quietly.

His mouth fell open and she realized the misinterpretation.

"No," she quickly recovered, "I mean, I haven't _been_ with him for two months, this was... basically the first time."

"And to be perfectly fair," Draco interjected, "you interrupted us before we were done, so..."

Hermione turned guiltily away from Harry.

"Are you going to keep staying here?" he asked, turning a slightly purple shade from forgetting to breathe.

"I think I have to," Hermione said, "I'm sure my parents are looking for me, this is still the perfect hide out."

Harry gathered his eyebrows sadly.

"Harry," Hermione said, "let's call the wedding off for now, huh?"

He looked up at her and after a moment nodded, his chin ruffling dejectedly as tears filled his eyes. She stood, turning from her grief-stricken friend and walking to the kitchen to refill her teacup.

"I'll see you later then," Harry said quietly, standing and fleeing the room, slamming the door behind him.

Draco approached Hermione slowly, kissing her shoulder from behind, "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he whispered softly between kisses.

"Draco," Hermione pulled away, tears brimming her eyes.

"Hermione, are you really upset about that?" he asked, taking her hands in his.

"I'm so confused," she said, making her way to the bathroom, splashing water over her face to clean it. He followed her. "I mean," she continued, "I can't see my friend hurt like that, but..." she turned to him, "I don't know about you either."

"Why don't we sleep on it?" Draco asked leading her from the bathroom and sat in bed, beckoning her to follow him.

"Could you sleep on the couch tonight?" she asked softly.

His eyes widened in disbelief, expecting any moment for Hermione to laugh and say, ha! just joking, I would love to climb into bed with your sexy body and make hot sweaty love all night long. But she didn't, and, dejectedly, he stood and slumped across the room to the couch where he spent a very upset night.

End Note: I am rather proud of this chapter, because, personally, I think it's hard to write long periods of dialogue- it gets old. But, happily, I did not get in the least bored while writing this one. I also think the length is astonishingly better than my last chapter, praise the Lord. So, I will leave you with this thought. Shoo shoo, go away, come again another day. If anyone knows where that's from, I will hug you and give you my praise, because it keeps coming to my head, and I don't know where from.


	9. A Subtle and Scary Letter

Disclaimer: Howdy y'all! Here I am on my ranch, hangin' round them there horses and sharin' manly stories with my fellas about flatulence and the like. Suddenly, one of em here asked me, 'Hey, Helena, you write all them nice books about the little wizard kid?' I says to him, 'Nope.'

Author's Note: I decided, hey, I might not like disclaimers, but why not have a little fun with them? **Chibimecools **and **In Dream, t**hank you for the note on the rain song. I think that must be where it came from. Somehow, "shoo shoo" was in my head. Don't know where that came from. Gee, I'm glad you all don't judge me on my dumbness. Well, at least not out in the open. Okay, about the story, I decided that my readers will probably really like this next chapter or really hate it, because it's just a lot of talking again and figuring stuff out. I was actually very proud of my little figuring, but hey! not everyone will be. Um, I'm starting school again on Monday and may I just say- "NOOOOO" I'm sure you all agree.

Chapter 9: A Subtle and Scary Letter

Draco woke nearly an hour earlier than Hermione. He smiled at her delicate figure that carefully took up only her side of the bed, though the other had been unoccupied. He smiled at how the white sheets now had a glossy blue hue in places from the smudged chalk that had rubbed off during the night. The endearing thought brought him to his senses of his own appearance and upon entering the bathroom, started in surprise at the unkempt being standing before him.

He was quickly in the shower, washed up, and out again, dressing for another day of school when he heard a knock at the door. He softly sighed; he didn't think Harry would be back so early. Silently, he crept through the room, pulling his pants on as he went, forgetting the shirt, more than a little prepared to shout the head off of Potter. However, it wasn't Harry that he met at the door, it was one Professor Snape.

"Professor?" Draco asked, hastily closing the door to only a small aperture, closing himself in the gap, so as to hide Hermione's sleeping body in his bed.

"I'm sorry to bother you so early, Mr. Malfoy, but your father sent me an owl last night. One that was quite odd, actually, and I decided that it really was more to your purpose than mine. I wanted to catch you before breakfast so that we didn't have to bother with it during class."

"Yes, Professor," Draco said, his mind going wild with dread, "I understand, but now's not the best time for me."

"Why not?" he seemed to think the question wasn't forward in the least, fairly contrary to Draco's way of thinking.

"Well," now Draco needed a reason, "for one, my room's a wreck," he said, a nervous laugh trailing the statement.

Snape cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms, waiting for further explanation.

"Besides," Draco suddenly grabbed his head in his hands, "I have such an awful headache, I was just on my way to the Hospital Wing."

"Uh huh," Snape said, unimpressed. "Mr. Malfoy, please, I would have expected better from you than such a ridiculous lie as that."

Snape pushed past Draco, who had momentarily let his guard down, and waltzed into the dormitory.

"Professor!" Draco squealed in an almost inaudibly high pitch. "Wait," he said calmly as he met his professor halfway through the room. He silently thanked Hermione for sleeping with the throw pillows at her feet rather than on the floor, "here, sit down, and I'll make you some tea and we can sit down and look over your letter together."

Snape sat skeptically at the small table and watched Draco go to the stove, lighting it and setting the teapot atop it, grinning at him in the process. Draco then made his way to the bed, chatting amicably with his potions professor about the cold Snape had just suffered.

"I feel much better," Snape said appreciatively, "thank you for asking, Mr. Malfoy."

"No trouble at all, Professor," Draco said as he approached the head of the bed where he began fluffing pillows- a cover-up for his actual purposes.

He looked down at the bed, apparently at the pillow, "mmhmm"ing and "yes, of course"ing to the professor as he listened to some sort of monologue about the frustration Snape felt in first years. Upon looking at Hermione, he met a pair of wide, terrified eyes. He knew that Hermione had been awake the whole time. If the knock at the door had not awoken her, the ensuing conversation must have. Her body was stiff and straight, sweat beading on her forehead from the fright.

She raised a hand so that it was against her stomach, not high enough for Snape to see. She mouthed something to Draco, using wild though small hand gestures, but he didn't understand. He turned to Snape and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

Snape apologized for mumbling and repeated himself, but Draco wasn't listening. Draco was looking at Hermione, who also repeated herself. Again, Draco was lost. He shook his slightly at her, turning again to listen to Snape, who was now complaining about the drafty quarters appointed to him this year.

Hermione tried once again, this time taking the palm of his hand and spelling the words in sign language, Helen Keller style. "S-H-O-U-L-D-I-M-O-V-E" and then pointed behind the bed.

"I've thought of requesting something a bit more homey," Snape continued, but Draco cut him off, finally understanding Hermione.

"Yes, I agree completely, Professor..." he glanced quickly down at Hermione and said slowly, "You most definitely should."

Hermione understood and rolled across the bed to Draco's side, where she rolled off, making a loud noise. She mentally cursed herself.

"What was that?" Snape asked, standing.

"Don't get up, Professor," Draco said rather frantically. "My, um, my... alarm clock fell off the bedside table."

Snape didn't sit.

"It's a rather heavy alarm clock, and it tipped the bedside table along with it. Here, I'll just pick it up."

Snape sat wearily as Draco leaned down, meeting Hermione face to face.

"Nice going," he breathed.

"Sorry," she said, "Why did you let him in?"

"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?" he murmured under his breath before conjuring an old-fashioned gold alarm clock.

"Ah," he said standing as Hermione rolled beneath the bed. "Here it is," he waved the alarm clock above his head.

"Why do you have a muggle alarm clock?" asked Snape curiously.

"An old family friend gave it to me. Couldn't very well not keep it, could I?" he smiled broadly.

"Let me see that," Snape said, standing and taking a few steps toward the bed.

"No," Draco said, clutching the alarm clock, "have a seat, I'll bring it to you."

Snape returned to his seat and Draco brought the clock to him, nudging Hermione reassuringly with his toe before leaving her.

"What did you say about a letter?" Draco asked his professor as he sat across him, raising his voice to assure that Hermione heard the conversation properly.

"Ah, yes." Snape pulled a piece of rolled parchment from the folds of his robes and handed it carefully to Draco. It was tied with a dark green ribbon and was rolled tightly. Draco undid it slowly, looking at the contents, taken slightly aback. The letter was a good size and written in classic calligraphy, a treat his father rarely indulged. Draco read over the letter silently. When he was through he looked up to Snape, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Cryptic, wouldn't you say?" he asked.

"I would say so..." Draco trailed off, reading a segment once again.

"Read it aloud," Snape requested quietly.

Draco nodded, cleared his throat and read.

"My dear friend and colleague,

Danger is in the air I fear, though not for you and not for me and not for any we possess. When rain and dust merge, what do they create? What if I said quite plainly rain will never again fall and dust is no more? Would you believe me? Would you heed me?

Dragons believe themselves quite strong but I am the bringer of light, and light reveals and destroys. What will my torch reveal in the chasms and echoes of night? How deep will my fire burn and what will it scorch along the way?

Good friend, listen to my words- romance survives in darkness. Do not think you can create fire, but remember I cam the bringer of light. Recall, if you will, in the recesses of your mind, the stories bred in antiquity.

Though Pyramus and Thisbe created a light, did they keep it? No, it was snuffed out. Or would you say that Clytie, or Echo held the candle? No, I tell you unrequited love earns its place with fools. But perhaps the tale we need look into altogether is that of Mistress Hero and her Leander.

Need I warn you against this? Her torch was blown out with a mighty gust and his body wracked in the unforgiving sea until the sun brought truth- and that truth is death. Must I disclose further what needs to be said?

I, Lucius Malfoy, am the bringer of light and will find and reveal your truth. Be sure of that. Venture not to he cave, for the young strumpet that resides there will be your dissolution, your truth.

You will wait, but not long, for danger is in the air. And, my dear friend Severus, keep not this warning to yourself, for it is not meant for you, but one that eternally resides in my lineage.

My Blessings,

Lucius"

"Not really like him, huh?" Snape asked as Draco finished reading.

"No, he's usually much more to the point. Short and sweet." Draco bit his lip as he again read over a section in the letter. "This doesn't exactly fit either description."

"I figure it meant you when he said the thing about lineage."

"'One that eternally resides in my lineage,' yes, he meant me. I know this is meant for me." Draco rolled the letter tightly and stood, motioning towards the door. "Thank you, Professor," he said, shaking his hand, "It is nearly breakfast in the Great Hall, so I really must bid you ado. I'll see you tomorrow in class."

"Yes, and I trust you'll keep the letter confidential."

"Of course..." he smiled, "it will never leave this room."

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," Snape opened the door and made his way into the hall, "Have a good day!"

"You too!"

As he made his way back to the table, he heard Hermione climb out from under the bed.

"Draco," she faltered, "that letter is not good."

"No kidding," he said, closing his eyes and rubbing the lids to clear his mind a bit.

"Let me see it," she said, reaching for his hand.

He handed it to her, eyes still closed. She opened it and read it thoroughly, running through sentences several times over.

"Why would your father write a letter like this?" she asked as Malfoy looked up at her.

"Subtlety, I guess," he guessed.

"It's hardly subtle," she said, "it's scary."

"I think he was shooting for that too."

"So," she asked, "what do you make of it?"

"I know he knows about us. That's pretty clear, what with the whole use of Greek love stories."

"Spying on us is more like it- how else would he know about Hero and Leander?"

Draco nodded and pulled the letter from her.

"Well, let's figure this little riddle out, shall we?" Draco pulled Hermione chair closer to his, so they could easily read the letter, laid out on the table together, side-by-side. "First, danger is in the air."

"Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out," Hermione moved her finger across the parchment.

"Wait, what about this 'not for you and not for me, dot dot dot'"

"'Not for any we possess?'" she thought for a moment, "No death eaters?"

"My father knows that Snape isn't a death eater. It's something else."

"Okay, what else do your father and Snape have in common? Snape doesn't have a family, so it's not children, Lucius isn't a teacher, so it's not students..."

"Neither of us owns any pets."

"Pity."

He shrugged.

"Anyway," she looked back at the paper, "something they both possess. Well, they're both guys, both humans, both have flesh and blood."

Draco was caught at the words. "Flesh and blood," he mused. "They're both former Slytherine and both purebloods."

"So, danger could be coming to non-Slytherines and non-purebloods."

"Let's stick with that for now," he said, running his finger down the parchment to the next section. "'When rain and dust merge...' what do they create?"

"Rain and dust..." Hermione thought and laughed, "Mud?"

"Hermione," Draco said, taking Hermione's arm, "that's it. It makes sense. Not to purebloods- mudbloods."

"Of course," she sighed. "Okay then, 'Rain will never fall again?'"

"'And dust is no more.'"

They were both silent, reading the words as if they were pieces to a puzzle- rain... dust... merge... mud...

Hermione gasped and clutched at the table in front of her. Draco looked at her, surprised.

"Did you come up with something?"

Hermione turned her wide eyes to meet Draco's. Tears brimmed her eyes and dampened her lashes as she nodded, keeping her tears in check.

"Think about it, Draco," her voice cracked ever so slightly, "I'm mud. I'm the mud and what merged to create me?"

It hit Draco and he took Hermione's shoulders suddenly, "No, it doesn't mean anything. See the next line- 'would you believe me, would you heed me?' It's a threat. He didn't do it."

She nodded and gasped for breath.

"No," she whimpered, "he did. The threat's for me, he used them as an example for me."

Draco took her in an embrace, holding her close, rocking her like a baby for a moment while Hermione let a single tear slide down her cheek and land on Draco's flesh, glittering in the light. The tiny light in her tear brought hope to Hermione's heart. Yes, she thought, I can create light; I just have with my tears. She lifted her head and sniffed, wiping her face with her arm

"There's more work to be done," she said.

Draco smiled, he was proud of her, proud to be sitting beside her. He skimmed the page and read the next section- "'Dragons believe themselves strong but I am the bringer of light...'"

"It's a play on your names."

"What?" Draco looked up, a little angry that she had interrupted his thoughts.

"Your name means dragon, his name means bringer of light. Just insert your name and you got it. He's saying you think yourself strong but you're nothing compared to him."

"Way to build one's confidence, Hermione," Draco said, taken aback at her frankness.

She shrugged and moved on. "I want to finish this letter so you can get to breakfast. I don't want to bog you down again."

He smiled, thankful that he could eat the delicious food provided by the Hogwarts kitchen once again.

"'What will my torch reveal?'" Hermione read.

"So, he knows about us. He must have seen everything," Draco reasoned.

"That makes sense. And basically everything he says after that is a threat, trying to scare us into staying away from each other," Hermione said after continuing to read.

"I agree. I'd say his use of the Greek myths was for dramatic effect more than anything."

"Okay, and the only real thing we need to look at is the end; the part about the strumpet." Hermione suddenly took his arm, "I am not a strumpet!"

"No," Draco said, shaking his head insistently before turning back to the paper. "So, you're going to be my death?"

"I would have jumped for joy a few years ago," she muttered truthfully

"Let's put sarcasm aside, shall we?" Draco said.

"Oh, that was genuine," she sputtered out in laughter.

Draco gasped and leapt on her, knocking her to the floor, tickling her mercilessly. She shrieked in laughter until tears came to her eyes and her stomach hurt. She tried to reach to tickle Draco in the stomach, but he was too fast for her and pinned her arms above her head, straddling her hips in the process.

"Hmm," she said, breath ragged from the tickling episode, "this does not look good."

Draco surveyed her below him and bent down to kiss her.

"Draco," Hermione warned, "we can't do anything, not after how hurt Harry was last night."

"I just want to kiss you," he whimpered, before leaning down for another kiss.

His eyes were full of tenderness and she longed to receive him with open arms, but alas. He kissed so gently, almost spectrally, that it took her breath away. She was swept up, not in his body or the hungry, passionate electricity that had controlled them the night before, but by the immaculate energy held in his eyes. In his controlled kisses, slow and unobtrusive, in his fingers stroking her palm, sending prickles up her arm. It was suddenly very innocent- his legs, hands, and hips- so forbidden just moments before were now pure and clean.

"If I am your death," she whispered into his soft hair, "then you surely will be mine."

He sat up, letting go of her arms to analyze her beautiful face. Her hair framed her oval face gracefully, a hazelnut halo. She bent forward and ran her hand across the chiseled muscles that had been sinful and pleasurable last night, but were now idyllic and tranquil, drawn by the cherubim and seraphim so closely watching.

She wrapped her arms around him and he held her close, tenderly stroking her back.

"I think it's time for breakfast," she whispered softly and smiled up at him.

He stood, found a shirt, and left her, planting a firm, assuring kiss on her lips before he left.

End Note: Oh, I'm so sorry if you found that really boring. I'm going to get some action in there next chapter. Well, I don't know about _action_ action but at least something other than just talking. I swear! If you are by some chance enjoying this story, you should check out my friends' stories- Sulwyn of the North and Phinea. Phinea has some awfully funny one-shots and Sulwyn has a really great story in the making. It looks like I'm an advertisement again today. Woops. Oh, and keep reviewing, even if it is to tell me how horribly awfully boring this chapter was or how awfully unnecessary these author notes are.


	10. Eleanor Rigby Takes Flight

Disclaimer: My therapist says I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, and I guess I believe her. But I'm still not sure in the case of Oliver Wood, Remus Lupin, and of course, Harry himself.

Disclaimer Note: I just blatantly stole that disclaimer from my dear friend, Sulwyn of the North. Terribly sorry.

Author's Note: I will just continue to thank you kind readers. I'm listening to the Hair soundtrack for the first time in many months and I had forgotten how much I love it. I'm not sure why I think any of you will care, but if you're a fan of Hair too, then you are a friend of mine!

Chapter 10: Eleanor Rigby Takes Flight

The first thing Hermione did when Draco left her was take a shower, which left her refreshed and ready for a new day. As she walked through the larger room, a towel wrapped around her damp head, she glanced down at the letter on the table. Upon looking at it, chills rose along her spine and she shivered from cold. She thought that as she looked at it, she should be more frightened, but the more she thought the less afraid. She instead grew very cold.

Outside the window the snow was falling softly, covering the windowpane with a gentle frost, and the image calmed her. She went to the cupboard and removed a package of hot cocoa, which she made presently, sitting at the table and reading through the letter once again. A thought struck her most forcefully. How long had Snape had the letter? In the letter it said- 'you will wait, but not for long...' How long had already been waited? How much longer would she have?

Her thoughts grew a bit frantic at the thought and looked around the room, desperate not to leave it for very long. It was a home and haven and she had not seen outside of it, excepting the day she snuck out in the invisibility cloak, for over two and a half months. And, she would not only be leaving her home, but Draco. The thought played in her mind and she mused over why it such a profound effect.

She decided to leave the letter and go about her usual business; perhaps her time would be better spent thusly. She took two steps before turning back, looking at the letter, trying to intimidate it with her glare. It just sat on the table rebelliously. Fine, she thought, and she walked back to the table to turn the letter over on to its back, so that only a blank piece of parchment shown on the table. She smiled at her cleverness.

She then made the bed, humming pleasantly a Beatles song her father and uncles always sang around the campfire when they went for family reunions. As she made the bed, she began spinning happily with the pillows, dipping herself onto the bed, and sitting up, winking at the invisible audience across the room. Soon she had broken out, singing loudly and jumping on the bed, wrinkling the comforter she had just set correctly. She threw the towel on her head aside as she serenaded the room before her.

"Close your eyes," she sang, doing a little jig on the bed, "and I'll kiss you, tomorrow I'll miss you. Remember I'll always be true..."

She tripped on a pillow and fell on her face, giggling and continuing her song.

"And then while I'm away I'll write home every day, and I'll send all my loving to you!"

She jumped down from the bed, pulling a pair of Draco's socks from his dresser.

"I'll pretend," as she pulled the socks on, "I am kissing the lips I am missing and hope that my dreams will come true."

Standing, she cleared some of the debris from the middle of the floor.

"And then while I'm away, I'll write home every day..." the words were muffled by her grunts as she pushed the couch and pool table to the walls.

She resumed her place by the bed and rolled up her pants to her knees.

"All my loving I will send to you!"

She ran at full speed a few steps before sliding across the room. She squealed happily and continued to slide herself around, dancing to her own words.

"All my loving, darling I'll be true!"

Behind her she heard a very soft cracking sound- like a small lightning bolt. She froze mid-word. She clenched her eyes shut in foreboding as the person who had just entered leaned against the doorframe.

"All your loving?" the person returned in a fluid, baritone voice. "Tsk tsk tsk, that is a very strong statement you are making, my dear."

Draco was eating greedily at the Slytherine table in the Great Hall when he was bombarded by a very angry Harry Potter. Harry confronted him, pushing Goyle from his side, and demanded to know where you-know-who was. Several people turned their heads in surprise and he quickly apologized and explained that it was a different you-know-who.

Draco looked sideways at him and made a small gurgling noise that was inaudible over all the food in his mouth. When he had swallowed his food, he cleared his throat and turned his head to look at Harry.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, "was there something you wanted?"

"I want to know where Hermione is," Harry said, lowering his voice.

"She is in my dormitory, perfectly fine," he assured Harry and turned back to his bowl of fruit, stabbing a perfectly innocent grape and plunging it into his mouth.

"Well," Harry glanced nervously around before clearing his throat and asking Draco, "what happened when... when I left?"

"If you're thinking we shagged, she wouldn't hear of it," he said after swallowing the grape.

Harry sighed, perceptibly relieved.

"She always said she wanted to wait," Harry whispered to him.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked between bites of toast.

"I mean, when we were dating she said she wanted to wait until she was married."

"You mean you never...?" No other words were needed.

Harry shook his head.

"No wonder you were so bent about us," Draco said, both a little disturbed and proud that she would have lost her virginity to him that night.

"She probably wouldn't have gone through with it anyway," Harry said, trying to keep some of his dignity in tact.

"Oh, I wouldn't go so far as that," Draco said. "You didn't see her last night."

"She managed to stop herself on many a throw of passion while we were dating. You didn't see her then," Harry reminisced pleasantly for a moment.

Draco just shook his head and returned to his toast.

Hermione's jaw tightened and back stiffened as she heard the man taking soft steps across the wooden floor to her. She felt an iron hand grip the back of her neck as the other moved her still-damp hair. His thumb reached to the opposite side of her neck, pressing lightly.

"Sing for me," he whispered sinisterly in her ear.

She stood motionless in his grasp, unable to think, she was so gripped by terror. The pressure on her neck increased as he again asked her to sing. She refused in silence and the tension on her neck tightened further. The thought that he would snap her neck right there in the middle of Draco's dormitory crossed her mind, but it fled at the pain of the aching bone and muscle. She recoiled ever so slightly, drawing a grimace from the face behind her head.

He spun her to face him, but she kept her clamped eyes closed.

"Look at me," he demanded quietly.

This she could obey. Just as she thought, it was the luminous face of Lucius Malfoy. She kept her lips a clean line and blinked slowly, desperately keeping the panic she felt from manifesting itself through her face.

"Now," he smiled down at her, "that wasn't so hard... sing!" he demanded, tightening his grip on her neck almost to breaking point. She thought she would go unconscious or at least numb, but instead jolts of pain were sent through her limbs, setting them on fire.

He removed his hand and struck her across the face, sending her flying into the wooden board at the foot bed. She held her neck and massaged it for a moment, watching Lucius approach her slowly, menacingly. He struck her once more, making her head collide with the bed.

"Sing!"

"No!" she screamed back at him.

This was obviously the wrong thing to do. He grabbed a handful of her hair and tore it forward hurting not only her scalp, but burning her bare shins and knees by the friction of the wood floor.

She was rolled on to her back and panting from the pain as he stood over her. He placed his booted foot on her hair, keeping her securely in place as he reached into his robe to reveal a long, thin dagger. The dream that Hermione had had a few nights before came flooding back into her memory and she gasped, breathless in terror at the instrument that had been her death.

"Sing," he breathed ominously.

Draco had finished breakfast and slung his bag over his shoulder, deciding to stop by the library to bring Hermione some books for her to read in her spare time, which he figured she had her fare share of. Harry caught up to him, demanding to see Hermione.

Draco refused curtly and continued his way to the library. He cursed himself for telling Harry about the letter they had gotten from Snape that morning, because now that Harry knew 'his Hermione' was in imminent danger, he wouldn't leave Draco alone.

"You don't understand," Draco said, immensely irritated, "my father won't come and take Hermione until I'm there because he has to teach me a lesson or something. I mean, the letter was a threat to me too, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry said softly, still not convinced, "but how do you know he won't just get there and leave you a note and then take her..." he was struggling to keep up, because Draco has so drastically increased the speed of his gait to get away from Harry, "or torture her there until you show up and then take her?"

Draco groaned as he approached the library. He quickly moved to the bookshelves and pulled the first one out he could find, the drone that was Harry's voice still behind him.

"Potter," Draco said, more than a little fed up, "If you insist on following me around any more, I will not be responsible for what happens to you."

"Ooh," Harry said sarcastically before looking out the window and was cut off by an eagle owl passing overhead.

Draco saw it too and they both turned to look at the other, eyes wide in terror.

Draco dropped the book he held and ran at top speed from the library, Harry at his feet. Due to several uncooperative staircases and more than a few bothersome portraits, the pair took longer than desirable in reaching Draco's dormitory and Hermione.

Just looking at the blade was enough to make Hermione do anything he told her. It terrified her to the very marrow of her bones. Her mind searched momentarily for a song and found one, another Beatles, one that had been something of a lullaby to her.

"Eleanor Rigby..." she whimpered, trying to find a rhythm apart from her pounding heart.

"Louder," he demanded.

"Picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been. Lives in a dream," she slowly became louder until she sounded nearly at conversational level. It sounded like shouting inside her head. "Waits at a window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Who is it for?"

Lucius bent and picked her up, sneering at her shaking words. She fell silent as his hand touched her arm.

"Don't stop," he told her as he led her across the room to the table.

She continued singing and sat when he forced her shoulders down into the chair.

"Eleanor Rigby died in a church and was buried along with her name.Nobody came."

He pulled a piece of parchment from his robes and glared up at her when she again paused her singing.

"Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walked from the grave. No one was saved."

He pulled a quill from his robes and began writing.

"Ah, look at all the lonely people," she paused in thought and completed subconsciously the song she knew so well, "Ah, look at all the lonely people."

Lucius rolled up the note and set it neatly on the table, coming to raise her from her seat, and she deftly followed. He moved her to the middle of the room and stood with his hand again securely on her throat.

After a long while of standing, the door opened and Draco and Harry both came bursting through. Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of them and there was just enough time for her to sing the last line of 'Eleanor Rigby' very softly to herself before Lucius vanished from sight with her in tow.

End Note: I sincerely hope that Beatles fans enjoyed that chapter. I know I did. I basically put in my own experience for her there. If you don't know fifty percent of the Beatles songs by heart, and at the very least recognize the other half, you are shunned in my family. At family reunions, that is all we do. We sit around the campfire, in our hotel room, on the beach, wherever we happen to be, and sing Beatles songs. Whether it's my dad and his brothers with their guitars, me and my cousins walking down the sidewalk holding hands and dancing, or the little toddlers humming and making up their own little garbles with the melodies, Beatles songs are ever present. It's actually a little sad.

Oh, also, I will make it my goal to update weekly. Because of how busy I suddenly am and the fact that Marcellus, my muse, has suddenly taken a vacation I am having to work very very hard on getting anything written. I already have the next two chapters written, but Chapter 13 is proving to be an annoying little bugger.


	11. Secret House

Disclaimer: "Ik bezit geen Harry Potter" - Dutch

"Je ne possède pas le potier de Harry Potter" - French

"Ich besitze nicht Harry Potter" - German

"Non possiedo il vasaio del Harry Potter" - Italian

"Ego scribo Harry Potter nusquam" – Latin

Just five ways to say I don't own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: I'm horribly sorry if I butchered anyone's language in my disclaimer. I can't speak any of those languages; I used Babel Fish translators. Thank you once more for all the great reviews. I don't really have much to say except for the fact that in my "Calender of Unfortunate Events," you know, like the books, today's quote is: "On a hot day, swimming in a cool pond is a pleasant activity, but even on the coldest of days, boiling in a soup pot is not, particularly if the soup is hot and creamy." Just thought I'd share.

Chapter 11: Secret House 

"What I don't understand," Harry said, "is how he left. You can't apparate out of Hogwarts."

"Mmhmm," Draco didn't really feel like a conversation at the moment, he just wanted to figure out a plan of action. One was slowly formulating.

"I mean," Harry continued on his rampage, "he could have used a portkey, but the only things he was holding were his wand and Hermione..." Harry turned suddenly, "you can't use a human for a portkey, can you?"

"No," Draco answered shortly.

Harry paced back and forth furiously in the Malfoy dormitory as Draco sat at the table, reading the three words that Lucius had scribbled before his departure.

IN THE SECRET 

"He's filth," Draco spat, dropping the note to the ground and sitting on the couch, holding his chin in thought.

Harry went to the table and picked up the discarded piece of parchment, reading it in a moment.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, shoving the parchment in Draco's face, "In the secret?"

"He's talking about Secret House. It's a D.E. hideout."

"D.E.?"

Draco didn't answer, giving Harry a second for it to process.

"You mean Death Eater?" Harry asked, voice changing an octave. Draco grinned slightly. "Hermione's been taken to a Death Eater hideout?!"

Draco nodded curtly, sending Harry into a state of hyperventilation. Harry managed to find a center of self-control before demanding viciously, "Take me to her!"

Draco just sighed and turned away, hand returning to his chin. He eventually turned back to Harry who held him at wand-point.

"Okay, hero," Draco said, turning Harry's wand from his face with his index finger, "before you go getting your grundies in a bundle why don't you try asking me nicely."

Harry's nostrils flared ever so slightly.

"Draco..."

"Yes, Harry?" Draco asked pleasantly.

"Would you kindly take me to Hermione?"

"Hermione? And who would she be?"

He gritted his teeth and answered slowly, "My best friend and the girl that's been living in your room for God knows how long."

"Oh yes, and where is she?"

Harry's eye was now twitching uncontrollably, "In the Secret House."

"And what is the Secret House?" Draco tilted his head slightly and raised his eyebrows at Harry.

"A Death Eater hideout."

"That's right," Draco looked intently at Harry and settled back into the couch, "and because it is a Death Eater hideout named the Secret House, not the Let's Tell Everyone We Know House, I have been uninformed as to the location of this particular domicile, along with the majority of the natural world, and because I do not know the location to the stead your beloved lass has been fetched to I would not cognize where to direct you which furthermore means that, to answer your original question, no, I will not kindly take you to Hermione." He sat back and smiled up at Harry, who was growing steadily more puce by the second.

Finally, Harry simply exhaled and slumped beside Draco, head in hands. After a moment, Draco detected a small sniffle from his companion. He at first minorly scooted away, but could not excuse or ignore the gentle sobs that were eventually coming from Harry's hands.

"There, there," Draco patted Harry's shoulder softly, not entirely comfortable with the situation. "Don't worry," he tried to think of comforting things to say- hmm, that's a toughie, "we'll find Hermione."

Harry looked up at him with wide saucer-like eyes, "Really? You think so?"

Draco smiled and nodded his head. "Sure," he further heartened, "sure, we will."

Harry cleared the tears from his face and stood, a determined look on his face, "Well," he said ardently, "Where do we start looking?"

Draco screwed up his eyebrows for a moment. Yes, he had intended to figure out where his father had taken Hermione, but he had certainly not intended to do it with this loopy tart following him around everywhere. He was about to tell Harry straight out that he had no purpose in bringing him along to save Hermione, but with the resolutely hopeful expression pinned on the boy's face, he found that he could hardly put up so much of an argument let alone destroy the poor kid's hopes and dreams like that.

"I don't know," Draco said, standing, "I guess we can go to my house and snoop around my dad's files. Not that he would leave anything D.E. related lying around the house, but..."

"It's worth a try," Harry finished the sentence for him. Draco didn't like how chummy that sounded.

"Right," he nodded briefly and went back to the piece of parchment.

"We still don't know how Lucius left, do we?" Harry said, "We've agreed it couldn't have been apparating or a portkey... but we saw him vanish right before our eyes. I don't know how he did it."

"I do," Draco said off-handedly.

"You do?" Harry asked, a tad put out at the sureness in his voice.

"Sure, it was the Finis charm."

"What's the Finis charm?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Draco smiled and Harry gave him one frustrated expression to let him know it was not remotely the time for playing around. "Fine," Draco obliged, "the Finis charm is a charm that directs one to the boundaries of a location. If, for example, you're in the middle of some maze or something where you can't get out, you can use this to transport yourself to the boundaries and then just walk out. It's got nothing on apparating but it comes in handy in non-apparating zones or in the case that you're stuck somewhere and you just want to get out, you don't care where you go."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, getting slightly sidetracked, "And why don't they teach it in school?"

"The answer to that is because it is considered Dark Magic and the reason I know it is because of my father and the books he keeps in his library."

"It doesn't sound dark at all."

"No, well, I guess the charm itself isn't, but the creator of it was one of the great Dark Wizards before Voldemort's time- Lilith Morrisa, I think her name was."

"Hmm," he sighed and went to Draco, "I assume you know how to perform this Finis charm?"

"Yeah, I'm not great, but I can do it," he said, shrugging off his robes, leaving him much more comfortable in common clothing.

"Okay," Harry said, taking his bag and grabbing Draco's shoulder, "Finis us out of here."

Draco sighed and complied, saying, "Fines Finium," with the slightest tap of his wand, sending them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione's hands and feet had been chained, her hair chopped, and her body wracked with what seemed like endless crucio curses. And now, she had been left alone. She reached her body forward, plunging her head up and heaved a labored breath, deep and raspy. Her lungs felt inflamed, as if someone had torn them to shreds, but left them as her only instrument for oxygen. She inhaled again, each breath an arduous chore.

In all her dreams, she could never have imagined the pain of the cruciatus or the fact that Lucius Malfoy would leave her alive afterwards. The pain that she had miraculously endured did very little to discourage the joy in finding herself alive after her encounter with the elder Malfoy. She held on to the fact that if she could only remain alive through her torture sessions then she would be okay. Life was what she held on to, because as long as she was alive, she could again see her mother, father, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and, at the base of her mind and heart, Draco, as long they were alive to see her.

Harry and Draco stood very still upon reaching the Forbidden Forest, as if by taking a step they would undo the progress they had already made.

"We did it," Harry whispered, "we made it to the Hogwarts boundaries."

Draco exhaled in relief; grateful only that he hadn't marred the difficult spell and landed them somewhere very unpleasant.

"Yes," he answered back, "we did it."

They looked at each other and, simultaneous step by simultaneous step, they made their way further into the deep recesses of the forest. As it became more and more shaded above them and only a faint sliver of sunlight could be seen every few steps, they began to question when it was safe to apparate. As neither was very experienced, they worried about their accuracy.

"Well," Draco finally said, continuing to walk, "I suppose we can apparate now."

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding and catching up to Draco's taller stride, "we don't want to waste any time."

As Draco was the only one who had seen Malfoy Manor before, he was in charge of the apparation. He took hold of Harry's shirt collar very suddenly and transported them in a haze to the front steps of Malfoy Manor, an incredibly loud crash announcing their arrival.

Draco cursed under his breath as he heard one of the many servants come running to see what had caused the disturbance. Harry ducked into the bushes and pulled him down beside him by his back pocket just as the maid came into view. Seeing that nothing was the matter, she shook her head in frustration and turned, disappearing behind the corner.

Harry removed the strap of his bag from his shoulder and removed the Invisibility Cloak.

"Let's use this from now on, shall we?" Harry said, draping it over the pair of them.

"How'd you get that?"

"It was just laying on your bed. Besides, mine went missing a few days ago, so I put two and two together."

Draco nodded and tried to stand up, his legs revealing themselves because of Harry's pull downwards. He was pulled down again.

"You can't just get up, we have to move together."

Draco growled in irritation and squatted, helping Harry up and guiding them through the entrance to the manor. They walked through the large hall, the dining room, up the back staircase to where the bedrooms were and then another staircase through the master bedroom closet that led to a fairly large study with bookshelves all around and an ornate rug adorning the dark wood floors. Four dark brown leather sofas and chairs sat in a square with an ebony coffee table between them with several different newspapers, magazines, and letters atop it. In the corner stood a desk, behind which was a magnificent portrait of the Malfoy family that must have been taken at least a year before judging by the length of Draco's hair.

Draco pulled the cloak from over their heads and locked the study door, enclosing them in this majestic corridor.

"Here," Draco said, handing him the Invisibility Cloak, "you look around the table and I'll check the desk. I know where everything is."

"I imagine you enjoyed this room when you were little, lots of things to look at," Harry said, subconsciously studying the architecture above the doorframe.

"No, my father never took me in here. I don't imagine my mother knows about it. Doesn't mean I didn't snoop though," he tugged his eyebrows up at Harry mischievously before crossing to the desk and opening one of its many drawers.

Harry started poring over the documents lain on the coffee table. He came across three publications of the Daily Prophet, each one nearly four months apart and several letters in muggle envelopes from a variety of Malfoy relations. One read: "The company of Specialus Domus left me intoxicated, and the return to my wife left me in a state of sheer boredom. I find that excusable means for murder, but for somereason the authorities..." However interesting the epistles between Lucius Malfoy's infamous correspondents were, he could not distract himself from the task at hand. He continued to look through the magazines and read several articles of newspapers and the like in the hopes of finding some sort of clue. At the bottom sat a small green folded paper with a large G on the front. Harry lifted it and unfolded it carefully until it created a large round piece of paper that looked like a faded map. He set it down on the table and it bounced to life, creating an orb that floated and spun slowly above the table.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked as he watched the hovering sphere, mesmerized.

Draco turned to look and gasped at what Harry had found. He went to meet Harry by the globe and said, "That, Harry, is a Malfoy globe."

"What does it do?" Harry asked, tilting his head slowly and squinting his eyes every so slightly.

"It locates any place in the wizarding realm."

"Then locate Secret House for goodness sake!" he stepped back and looked at Draco, appalled that he had not had the sense to do it before.

"It doesn't locate any place with a clandestine charm on it without a password to the place. I tried Secret House when I first found about it."

"Well, try it again," Harry whined shrilly.

With a sigh, Draco complied, pointing his wand to the tip of the globe and said clearly, "Secret House."

The globe turned a sickly gray color and blared an irritatingly piercing sound. Draco looked toward Harry smugly.

"Well," Harry said quietly, "maybe that's what it's supposed to do."

Draco lifted his wand and touched the tip of the globe once more and said clearly, "Ministry of Magic."

The globe purred a pleasant lull and spun until London was facing them and it zoomed in to reveal a picture of busy witches and wizards going in and out of their offices.

"Fine," Harry said and returned to the magazines on the coffee table while Draco walked back to the desk.

Draco had been finding very little, until he came upon a certain manila envelope containing a pile of photographs, all moving and speaking at once. One held an amiable looking Lucius in front of a whitewashed villa with burgundy bougainvillea, his arm draped across two younger men's shoulders. The men had the same platinum blonde hair and strong chin as Lucius Malfoy, though one's hair was cropped to his chin and fell in strong curls; the other's was slicked into a short Mohawk on the top of his head. Draco smiled at his uncles and turned back to the envelope, taking out one after another photograph.

"Who're they?" Harry asked, pointing to a picture of the two uncles and a few barely dressed, dark-haired women dancing exotically before them.

"When'd you get here?" he asked, clutching the pictures to his chest.

"I snuck up on you as you were checking out the photo."

"Oh," Draco pulled the pictures out once again and looked at it fondly, "These are two of my uncles. Silvio's the one with the curly hair, and the other one's Xanto," he chuckled softly, "he's kind of funky."

Harry pulled a few of the pictures from him, "Where are they?"

"I don't know. One of my father's many leisure trips." Draco laid the pile on their fronts and looked up at the mantle of the fireplace, a giant clock above it. The time struck 4:30 pm. He was beginning to get worried. It shouldn't be taking this long. He could feel Harry's gaze behind his shoulder and became extremely uncomfortable.

Slowly, he moved out from behind the desk and moved to the coffee table, picking up different magazines and letters.

"So," he said to Harry, who was shuffling through the pictures on the desk, "you didn't find anything here?"

"Nope," he said, studying one particular picture closely, turning it slowly upside down and smiling humorously.

Draco nodded and returned to the letters, removing the letter Harry had previously been so enthralled by. It was from his Uncle Xanto. Hmm Draco thought to himself, I didn't know Aunt Lisa died. Suddenly, something struck him about the letter, something he couldn't quite get a hold of. At close to the same moment, Harry dropped all but one photo to the ground, holding one specific one in front of his eyes, trying to gather where he had before seen the information he now read.

Their eyes lit up at the same time and they went to each other, holding their items out to each other. Harry held the photo of Lucius with this arm over his younger brothers. They exchanged effects twice before looking up at each other, eyes wide. On the page read the words- "Specialus Domus." On the back of the photo read the single word- "Specialus."

It seemed such an obvious clue, but neither of them knew what to think of it. They panicked slightly, looking to their documents then back at each other until finally a thought occurred to Draco. He threw the letter into Harry's hands and ran to one of the bookshelves, pulling one down that was as dusty as it was thick. He couldn't hold his hands around it.

He sat on the couch, frantically flipping pages back and forth until he settled on one specific page near the back of the book, scribbling something on a nearby newspaper before returning to the book. Once again, pages flipped until landing upon another page, nearer the front. He again wrote furiously onto the newspaper before setting the book down carefully beside him, turning to the newspaper.

Harry stood anxiously beside until Draco sat still, staring ahead at what was before him.

"What did you find?" Harry asked in a hushed whisper.

Draco held the book up for Harry to see the title. "An English-Latin directory." He placed the book reverently in the center, "Comes in handy more often than you would think."

"What does it have to do with Hermione?"

Draco took the piece of paper that he had been holding a moment before and read out loud, "Specialus Domus- Secret House."

End Note: Dum dum dum!!! Spooky, no? Tomorrow's quote from my calendar is "'Surely 'tis better, when summer is over to die when all fair things are fading away.' –Thomas Haynes Bayly, a poet who, sadly, heeded his own words and died in 1859."


	12. Two Ride the Airplane

Disclaimer: Hooka huna hana akalala huka hana hey! I don't own the characters from Harry Potter-wana hey! Hookey mookey akalala huna hana matta hey!

Author's Note: Another big thanks to my reviewers! I feel sad because I think I've lost some of my old readers. However, on a much happier note, I'm so glad to have people reading my story for the first time. I think I'm going to respond to reviewers, because my review was just responded to for the first time on a story that I adore and it made me feel very fuzzy.

**ThousandI**: Thank you so much. I've really been trying to keep people in character, and I must say I underestimated how hard it would be.

**DarkRaven-04**: Thank you for reading the whole thing. I'm really glad you liked it.

**In Dreams**: Oh, the disclaimers are so hard for me. Thank you for the input on that little detail.

**Sailor Moon Rose**: I'm really glad you like the quotes. Since today doesn't have a quote on it, I'm going to go back to June because I think this quote is funny: "Swimming, like horseback riding or volleyball, is a sport that can be done either for recreation or to save one's life."

Okay, I am going to desperately plead with someone to read my Deathtrap story. I realize it's not as good as this one (or maybe I'm just kidding myself that this is good) but I think it's kind of funny, and I love the movie so I would really love for someone to read it. The response to this story has been awesome and I love it all so much, but it saddens me that my poor other story is completely review-less. Ah me. Oh well, without further ado-

Chapter 12: Two Ride the Airplane

Harry's voice caught in his throat. "Wh..." he tried to make out the words, "What did you say?"

Draco nodded slowly, staring at Harry, "Specialus Domus means Secret House in Latin."

"That can't be a coincidence!" Harry shouted joyfully.

"No," Draco said, joining Harry in insensible elation, "it can't!"

They clutched each other briefly before jumping up and down, laughing wildly. It was Draco that first came to his senses.

"Harry," he said, setting the boy on the sofa, "calm down."

It took a while for the craze to subside.

"We still don't know where Secret House is," Draco said, "We haven't really made any progress at all."

"Way to build a guy up, Draco."

"Sorry."

"No," Harry scooted over to make room for Draco on the sofa, "you're right. We've gotten nowhere and Lucius has had Hermione for nearly six hours. She could be dead by now."

Draco shook his head, "No," he stood and returned to the desk picking up the pile of pictures, "She's not dead. My father wouldn't kill her without you and I seeing her. What we've got to worry about is what Hermione can survive through."

They both shivered slightly, not knowing what to do after finding the overwhelming information. Suddenly, their eyes fell on the deflated globe that had fallen back to its original flat shape on the table.

Draco lifted his shining eyes to Harry who grinned expectantly. Draco pulled the map up to his eye level and folded it carefully until the G was on top again, then unfolded it, laying it on the table so that it grew to its spherical shape.

Draco raised his wand and touched the tip of the globe and said with a slight tremor in his voice, "Specialus Domus."

The globe purred and spun until it showed a line of islands that the boys recognized as Greece. It focused in on the island of Crete until they could see on the coast a grouping of people in what looked like a large dining room. Several removed the hoods from their dark cloaks and sat at a table, discussing with the others. They instantly recognized one as Lucius Malfoy who bit into an apple between words.

"That's definitely it," Harry said before turning to Draco, "How do we get there?"

"Well, we could fly or floo or use a portkey..."

"You mean the globe thingy can't get us there?"

"Nope, sorry."

Harry bit his lip in frustration and slumped down on the couch, crossing his arms angrily. "Well," he whined, "how are we going to get there?"

"Must I repeat myself?"

"I've never been to Greece, so we can't apparate..."

"I don't know of a single fireplace I could floo to without being detected..."

"We don't have time to make a portkey..."

"I'm certainly not up to flying that long of a distance in this weather..."

They both grunted empathetically to each other.

"Well," Harry finally suggested, "we could always go by muggle means."

Draco gaped at him, nearly disillusioned by the suggestion. "We could what?" he asked quietly.

"If we went to an airport it would only take a couple of hours to get to Crete. Plus, Hogwarts has probably already noticed our disappearance and is bound to start searching soon if they haven't already. They'd find us immediately if we took wizarding methods, but they'd be slower to think of checking by muggle transport."

Draco nodded reproachfully and sighed, already regretting what he was about to say, "Alright, let's get to the airport."

Hermione writhed in pain as Lucius bent over her, the mind-numbing effects of the Cruciatus beginning to wear off. He allowed her a moment to breathe, which she did in staggered swallows of air.

"How did that sum up, my dear?" he lulled as he played with her short hair.

"One of your best, darling Lucius," she hissed, nearly inaudible.

He clicked his tongue as he continued to twist her hair in his fingers. He kneeled before her, suddenly overwhelming her with his presence. His hands were pressed against the stone wall behind her and she backed up into it as far as she could, looking icily up into his shining eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, Lucius scooped Hermione's legs out from underneath her and laid them straight out in front of her. He straddled the legs and pulled Hermione's body close to him, creating an immense ache in her wrists from where the chains were cutting into the skin. Then, Hermione closed her eyes as she felt Lucius descend upon her.

His lips attacked hers, forcing her head back to hit the stone behind her. The dizzy haze that she now felt could hardly be concentrated on with the burning osculation that her lips endured. As she lay, feebly defending herself, an idea clicked in her mind and the dizziness she had been subject to left her suddenly so that her mind darted and focused as if on a final test at school.

She bit forward and caught Lucius mid-kiss, totally off his guard. She plunged forward, ignoring the pain in her wrists and tangling her tongue with his violently. In a moment of sheer consternation, he removed his hands from around her and leaned back as she kissed him. She pulled her legs from beneath him, and, still locked to his lips, spun him around to pin him against the wall. It was only then that he came to his senses. He pulled away and looked up at her confusedly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she merely seized his lips again, grinding into him with her hips until he moaned slightly. She pulled away, deciding that her plan was coming to effect.

"You know," she breathed as she moved her hips sensuously into his, digging harder with each move, "I could do so much more if my hands were unchained..."

Draco and Harry sat uncomfortably in their fetidly small airplane seats. They both stared forward at the back of the seat in front of them, occasionally glancing at the other out of the corner of their eye. After sitting in silence for a couple of minutes, hearing the couple behind them converse obliviously about their communication problems, a more than perky stewardess approached their seat.

"Excuse me, Sir," she said in an alarmingly bubbly voice, "but you need to buckle your seat belt before the captain can take off."

She put a hand on Draco's seat. His eyes widened in panic and he puffed his cheek, darting his eyes from side to side.

"What does she mean?" he whispered to Harry, an overwhelming distress filling him.

"Here, Draco," Harry leaned over and took his seat belt, buckling it securely across his lap.

"Thank you," Draco sputtered.

"Oh," the stewardess covered her mouth and shook her head slowly, "I'm sorry Sir," she looked at Harry, " I wasn't made aware of your companion's condition."

Draco turned and looked at Harry confusedly, to which Harry just shrugged. Draco decided to play along.

"Yes, yes," Harry nodded sadly, "his disability..."

"We usually allow passengers with mental conditions to sit in the properly awarded seats toward the front."

"With first class?" Harry asked off-handedly.

Draco just sat silent.

"Yes, Sir. It allows more room for the passenger and allows him to get quicker access to one of the flight attendants." She looked forward down the row, "I think we have an open seat to the front, if you'd like to take it."

"That would be very kind," Harry said, stifling a chuckle. "Come along, Draco," he said in a singsong voice, unbuckling him. Draco understood the general gist of what he was supposed to be and lifted his arms like a child to allow Harry access to his waist. "That's good," Harry said, leading him by the elbow down the row, "now watch out for that nice lady... good Draco; that's very good."

When they reached their appropriate seat, the flight attendant sat up a blanket and pillow in the window seat to which she led Draco to sit, smiling as he nestled in and made a grunt of satisfaction.

"Will this do?" she turned to Harry.

"Oh yes," he nodded, taking her hand, "it will do wonderfully. Thank you so much."

"It's no trouble, Sir," she smiled, returning to her plastic friendliness, "If you need me again, simply press the button above your head with the image of a flight attendant on it."

He nodded and took his seat beside Draco who was pawing the window beside him and gurgling gibberish that sounded something like a dying hippopotamus, only louder.

"Okay Malfoy," he said as the flight attendant walked away, "you can stop acting like that now."

"It's kind of fun," Draco whimpered, straightening himself in his seat and reaching forward to one of the many magazines in the pouch in front of him. He frowned at the boring images with no life and movement. "Geez," he muttered, "how can these hold people's interests? I'm bored just looking at the cover."

"It's a little thing called reading," Harry smirked back, just as quietly as Draco had done, "you may not have advanced to that yet, my little retard."

Draco turned and looked at him venomously, to which Harry simply grinned and began reading an article interestedly.

"So," Draco said, tapping his fingers against his knees, "what do we do now?"

"We sit back until we get to Crete."

"Great," Draco sighed as the plane took off into the air.

Hermione lay below Lucius, her hands finally free and digging into the back of his head, running her fingers through his silky hair that was slowly being dyed a sickly blood red as she bucked and arched forward on to him.

"I thought..." he moaned with yet another plunge, "you would be more defiant than this."

"Well," Hermione gasped through the stabs of pain becoming sharper and sharper, "you seem to be quite more irresistible than I could have imagined." Her words left her nauseated. Almost as much as her deeds.

After several hours of flight, the stewardess returned to feed the boys their dinner. She practically squealed at the adorable scene that met her eyes. The little blonde boy was laying, curled up in a ball on the dark-haired boy's lap, his face in the boy's sweater. The dark-haired boy was holding on to his little birdbrained companion. _How sweet!_

She approached and tapped the dark-haired boy on the shoulder, waking him in a yawn. He jumped at seeing her, waking the other boy, who leapt back to his appropriate position before realizing what he should be acting. He leaned his face against his companion's shoulder and smiled awkwardly.

"Draco," Harry said, pushing Draco's face away, "the nice lady's got something for us."

"I certainly do," she baby-talked to Draco, who smiled delightedly and clapped his hands together.

She pulled two trays of dinner from her cart and served it to them on pullout trays nearly the size of their own dining tables.

"Anything else I can get you?" she asked happily, just as perky as ever.

"I'll have some ginger ale, actually," Harry said, smiling right back at her.

"Certainly, Sir," she smiled and retreated back down the aisle.

"Well," Draco sighed as he looked back at Harry's lap where he had previously been dozing, "let's not tell anyone about that, shall we?"

"My lips are sealed," Harry said, lowering his face to his meal, which he devoured within seconds.

"Hungry?" Draco had a disgusted expression as he lifted his fork politely in front of him.

"Oh, like you're not."

Draco shrugged and discarded his fork, diving into his food just as Harry had done.

"How much longer?" Draco asked, his mouth full of food.

"I'd say we're pretty close," Harry said just as the captain came over the loudspeaker to confirm his estimations.

Draco nodded and pulled his tray off his table, placing a pair of headphones on his ears and closing his eyes, nodding his head slowly in time to the music.

Harry grunted comically and raised an eyebrow. Draco, sensing the disbelief, opened his eyes.

"What? It's a good song." He closed his eyes once more and rocked back and forth to the music.

The stewardess returned brightly, her cart of ginger ale in tow, "Your ginger ale, Sir."

"Thank you, Miss," he took it and sipped it, placing it in front of him before noticing that she was looking quizzically at Draco, headphones securely on his head.

"The Disney station," Harry answered her puzzled look.

"Very good," she nodded and sighed, returning down the aisle as the plane landed on the isle of Crete.

End Note: I really don't know how long it would take to get to Greece from London, so I just said a couple of hours. That seemed right. Also, I'm sorry the story is not progressing much with each chapter, I guarantee major development the next chapter. Oh and I was kind of nervous about that sex thing between Hermione and Lucius. I hope I didn't offend (or bother...) anyone. Love all!


	13. The Journal

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, you flippin' idiot! Gosh!

Author's Note: If you've seen Napoleon Dynamite, I was aiming for that with the disclaimer. Um, to continue with the quotes from my calendar, today's is: "Number of days until September 15, 2005: 364." Oh, also, today is the 16th, since I'll probably post it quite a few days after it's written.

**LyssaTucci**: Yeah, Hermy's frustrating me too, don't worry.

**Asha Ice**: Your wish is my command.

**Goddess-of-purity**: Thank you, and I agree about Draco.

**In Dreams**: Couldn't agree with you more. Eww...

**Dracolov**: No, don't worry about it. I'd be interested in the challenge, but this story is enough already. However, I will try to abide by the rules of your challenge in this story. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 13: The Journal

A week passed and Hermione sat with her head against the wall, starving and aching, losing concept of instance and space. She knew not what people thought of her disappearance, or if anyone cared, all she knew was the single visit of Lucius Malfoy every day. Every day marked by his return. She thought to herself, _how many times has he been to me? 7? 8? Something like that_. Thusly, she conceived the amount of time she had been without all she loved.

A week passed of Hermione, losing blood flow to her hands and fearing that her whoring was doing no good, passing her life pathetically in her cell.

Then, after a week, the bonds were removed from her wrists. Another week and she received two meals, three weeks and she received three meals. After an entire month of imprisonment, she was given her first set of clothing.

She thanked Lucius on her face for the gift and promised that she was unworthy of it. He responded that she had better make good use of them. She used them as a cot in the corner of the cell.

So, it only served that after two months, she would be removed from her cell altogether. It happened on a quiet Sunday morning, though Hermione would not know that, that the young captive to Lucius Malfoy would be moved to one of the several guest quarters on the premises.

"So," Hermione said, mocking something of a joke to Lucius as he showed her the new abode, "why did I come here on holiday?"

"Come, my pet," he stroked her now chin-length hair and led her through the short hallway, "let me show you your bedroom."

He flung open the dark wooden door at the end of the hallway, holding Hermione by the shoulders.

"My boudoir," Hermione sighed at the sight, and made her way across the room to plop on the bed, feeling the softness of the nearby pillows. It was an elegantly furnished room and held the appearance of a courtesan's chamber, adorned primarily with the colors of garnet, emerald, and sapphire. Severe and strong.

"Do you like it?" Lucius made his way across the room to join her on the bed, turning his body to her and placing his lips on her neck, to which she pulled away slightly.

"Do you care?"

"Your strong-mindedness has not left you yet, my dear?" he pursued her throat further and she eventually had flattened herself in opposition to his chase, leaving him sprawled atop her.

"Will it ever?" she whispered into his ear as his lips massaged their way down her throat to her collarbone.

"Never," he said between kisses, "my dear."

She rolled her eyes as he continued his way down. He reached the vital spot, it was the place she had accustomed herself to reacting to. This act had become a routine part of her life and it was the one thing she could still study and perfect. For that reason, and that reason only, she relished it.

She let a small whimper escape her throat as his lips brushed lightly against the hot spot. After several teasing touches, he finally made full contact with his lips to the side of her breast beneath cloth and she moaned loudly, just as she was supposed to, and pulled the shirt hurriedly off.

"Pet," he whispered, "before you get excited, I should leave."

"Now?" she bolted upward, a look of pure, unadulterated distress covering every inch of her being.

He nodded and ran his finger down her torso, which had flattened considerably since her stay there, landing at the waistband of her trousers. He raised his eyes to meet hers, which were smiling mischievously, but he pulled away.

"No," he said, standing, "I have a meeting that I must make and, considering the excitement of the day, I'm not sure how quick we would be."

"I understand, darling," she said, approaching him and wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her bare breasts against his chest. He melted a bit.

"No," he pulled away and backed away slightly, "the Dark Lord has expressly requested my presence, and I really can't take any distractions."

"Of course," she nodded and stepped back, leaning against the bed, "I'll see you later tonight?"

"Count on it," he strode across to her, catching her in a firm kiss and grabbing her behind.

She pulled away hesitantly and said, firming her butt muscles slightly, "I thought you had to go."

Without a word, Lucius Malfoy spun around and left the room, disappearing across the lawn to the house.

Hermione watched her master disappear from view, savoring the white of snow on the ground and the light of the sun shining in the light blue sky. She was in heaven.

She replaced her shirt on her body and made her way around the room, observing it with eyes that yearned and hungered for any sort of stimulation after their moment of darkness had passed. She smoothed her hand upon the dark wood of the dresser and plaintively slid the silk of the sheets and curtains between her calloused fingers. Opening the drawers, she found small trinkets and outfits that could only be meant for her. She grinned at the thought that she had made such an impression on the bringer of light.

After a long while of admiring her new setting, she came upon a small drawer in a table beside the bed. She squealed in the first real excitement she had felt in such a long while at what met her eyes. It was a small, bead-covered book with empty pages the color of buttermilk, creamy and smooth. She ran her hands over the perfect pages and sighed with wonder at all the entertainment and joy this little gift would bring her.

After marveling at the beauty of her new companion she felt the sudden urge desperately surge through her to fill its untouched pages. She searched through the little room for some moments for a quill, and when she had found one, sat on the ground resting against the bed. She sat the journal against her knees and thought a moment, coming to the conclusion that whatever she wrote would undoubtedly be read by Lucius. _So_, thought she, _how will I write_ _without his knowing how I truly feel?_ Then, as if she had been driven into a brick wall, the idea hit her and she began scribbling madly:

_"...This said, he sets his foot upon the light,_

_For light and lust are deadly enemies: _

_Shame folded up in blind-concealing night,_

_When most unseen, then most doth tyrannize._

_The wolf hath seized his prey, the poor lamb cries;_

_Till with her own white fleece her voice controll'd_

_Entombs her outcry in her lips' sweet fold:_

_For with the nightly linen that she wears_

_He pens her piteous clamors in her head;_

_Cooling his hot face in the chastest tears_

_That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed._

_O, that prone lust should stain so pure a bed!_

_The spots whereof could weeping purify,_

_Her tears should drop perpetually..."_

_The Rape of Lucrece by William Shakespeare_

Draco looked to Harry behind bars and noted how the boy was starting to wilt. Harry had lost weight; considerable weight; and did not look in the least like himself. He had not spoken to Draco now for at least a week, possibly more. Draco had lost count.

He turned from the boy, the sight too dismal to watch for so long a period. His eyes found the small window above and noted the moon. It was nearly full. They had been captivated two months and eight days. He was beginning to get discouraged.

Eight days more passed and Hermione filled her journal slowly, the first entry alone taking nearly twelve pages with The Rape of Lucrece, which she had memorized a year earlier. It was a beautiful poem, she thought, and somehow quite poignant to her present situation. After that, she took less time and energy to write, only writing short poems or lullabies that she had heard when she was young.

The visits from Lucius became fewer and further apart as she lived in the small guesthouse, since it was more suspicious for him to take a hike across the grounds than down to the cellar. It also sparked a suspicion that he had found himself a new entertainment. This would not do at all.

Hermione carefully studied his visits and found that he became less and less interested, forcing her to work extra hard to ensure him a good time. She became panicked when he stopped reacting positively to her advances, knowing that the line between wanted and unwanted was very thin and knowing the consequences of being unwanted. She had to concentrate her full effort on new techniques so that he would continue to keep her rather than dispose of her.

It was far harder than she could have imagined.

Draco had designed a plan and he planned to put it into action immediately. The difficult part of his conquest would be to wrangle little whiny boy over there to pitch in.

"Hey," he whispered harshly, "Harry."

It wasn't the first time he'd tried to talk to him, so he wasn't surprised at the reaction: an indifferent grunt and a turn further towards the wall.

"Harry," he said again, this time more severe, "Come on, you've got to talk to me."

Another grunt.

"Fine," he conceded, bending his head so that his lips would be mere inches away from Harry's cell, "I'll just talk to you and deal with the fact that you refuse to talk to me." He shifted so that his position was slightly more comfortable. "I've got a plan to get out of here and I think it'll work, but you've got to help me because, while I may be talented, I am not superhuman."

Harry finally turned and looked straight into his eyes.

"What d'ya say?"

Harry nodded and slid his head towards Draco so as to hear the plan more effectively.

As the night passed and Hermione slid herself into a ball beneath her window to see the moon more clearly a strange disturbance met her eyes. Upon the iridescent moon a cloudy mist started to fog it up and, being alarmed, she sat up in her satiny bed to behold in the distance a stream of smoke lifting above the trees and wafting up into the pure, star-littered sky.

So alarmed was she by this, she stood and made her way to the door of her room, turning the knob, amazed that it would even open. And all this time she had assumed herself confined to the one room. The rest of the house was at her disposal as well.

She fled down the hall to the front window, a large panoramic window that allowed her to see everything in view. The smoke was becoming thicker and darker and she could hear through some of the open windows a clamor of chaos coming from the place as well. She drew herself to the corner of the window and gasped as she noticed the fire spreading out to the forest beyond. She was mesmerized; what would become of the poor wood? She gathered some of the bedding from her room and wrapped it about herself for warmth and, daring to attempt a second escape that night, she turned the front door knob.

If there had been any amazement at being able to get out of her small bedroom, it was miniscule to the amazement she felt at being capable of opening the front door. Had Lucius been foolish in forgetting to lock her in or was there something she was overlooking? She didn't care at the moment, for all her mind was bent on the fire ahead of her. She clenched her teeth at the February chill and stepped into the snow, soft dewdrops flicking her skin. She continued out, furthering her amazement at her lack of boundaries.

Then, as she had been striding confidently towards the source of the fire, she heard a snap from the hedge of wood and stopped, terror filling her bones and freezing her footsteps. She slowly turned her head, being whipped by her own hair in the wind, and squinted to make out the forms in the trees. She could make no distinction but with more and more time she became surer of the presence and faintly took a step toward it.

From the sounds of the trees, there were gasps and utterances of surprise before two young men came bounding from behind the trees toward Hermione, unashamed of their clarity against the white snow for the world to see. Hermione suddenly couldn't speak and her vision became blurred by the tears of joy lining her eyes and she was struck dumb with astonishment.

However, when she finally made a step to come nearer the boys, her throat tightened as if an iron clamp had held itself tightly around it and she fought for breath. She shuddered in panic and began flailing as the boys reached her. Collapsing to the ground, she grabbed at them, stilling at the sight of them, both with explicit expressions of relief and joy on their faces, those looks quickly being exchanged with concern, however, as they realized Hermione's sudden state.

She clutched at her throat and gasped harder and harder, allowing no air however, with each move she made. Finally, in a stabbing moment of pain, she blacked out, the clear vision of Harry and Draco above her, comforting her as she lost consciousness.

End Note: I'm sorry it moved so quickly at the beginning, I know that can be bothersome. Um, how bout tomorrow's quote: "'Memento Mori (Remember you will die)' –motto of Prufrock Preparatory School. This motto also applies to summer."


	14. Complications with Accomodations

Disclaimer: When I was a youngin' I watched wholesome TV shows that taught me important life lessons. TV shows like Sesame Street, Barney, and Mr. Rogers. They taught me to eat my veggies, to share, and not to lie. Being an honorable person, I intend to hold true to the lessons I was taught, so here you go, even though I would make billions of dollars, earn world-wide esteem, and be worshipped by readers everywhere I will confess that I do not own Harry Potter. Thank you, Big Bird.

Author's Note: How random could that disclaimer be? I just kind of started typing, hoping that in the end it would have a point. That's how I write just about everything, including this Author's Note. Okay, I should come up with a point. Um, today a very traumatic thing happened to me. Even though I doubt a single person cares, I'm going to share- briefly- my day. One of my best friends lost consciousness mid-sentence while having a conversation with me and I, with the help of some other people, had to call an ambulance and go to the hospital with her where, only after what seemed like years of waiting, totally confused and terrified about everything, she was restored to near-normal conditions and excused from the hospital with the explanation of some kind of nerve contraction thing that I didn't understand because I don't speak all that high-tech doctor lingo. Sorry for making this so long, and, may I just say, if you're still reading, I admire your patience. Thanks for reviewing, everyone!

**In Dreams**: I'm sorry to confuse you. I hope I either clear things up for you, or distract your previous confusions with brand new ones to be confused about.

**Alenor**: Oui, tres bien. That's just what happened.

**Miss Mills**: Maybe I'm just totally slow, and completely random, but what does MWA stand for? And thanks for the enthusiasm.

**ThousandI**: You make me happy.

Chapter 14: Complications with Accommodations

Hermione awoke, terrified and disillusioned, in the arms of one Lucius Malfoy. Her eyes fluttered open romantically with the image of Harry and Draco lingering in her mind's eye only to be met by the icy, fierce gaze of the elder Malfoy, an effective alarm clock to the say the least. She sprang back, gasping for air, and landed on her knees on cold concrete. It took her a few moments to gather her wits while leaning against a wall as cold and solid as her apprehender's eyes. He remained still, a statue of ice radiating a silver light in the bitter blackness.

"My pet," a quiet voice grated against the silence.

She shuddered and thought frantically of what had happened. Did he know of Harry and Draco? Why had they been there? Why had she passed out?

"Master," she breathed heavily in a guttural groan through her exhausted fear. She guessed that it was a safe enough answer.

He approached her and, numb in apprehension, she waited for him to meet her. He bent and lifted her back to his arms where she wrapped her arms around his neck subconsciously, holding a piece of his hair between her fingers and rubbing them gently. The hair was so much like Draco's...

"Why ever did you try to escape?" the mock-sweet tone came again and shook her from her thoughts.

"I saw a fire," she slowly tried to explain, still not knowing how much information was too much information. "And I forgot everything, tried to see where it was coming from... if anyone was hurt..." Her mind wandered again, the hair in her fingers bringing waves of warmth through her body, an image behind her closed eyes that comforted her briefly.

"And so you left."

"Yes."

"That was very bad of you."

"I'm sorry."

"You must be punished."

"Yes. I know."

"Do you like your home?"

"Very much."

"Then you must be taken back to you old cell."

Silence.

"You know it was your own doing."

Silence.

Hermione did not want to be taken to her old cell. It was cold and dark and rough, unlike her room, full of color and warmth. Yet she knew it would happen, what with his new attachment and her monumental foul-up sprung from curiosity. She nearly shivered from rage of what she had done for months and now had to be stripped from everything that she had achieved from her pains. However, somehow, in the midst of her frustration and despair, she still held the lock of Lucius' hair, the hair so like Draco's and she was brought back to one of the many nights in Hogwarts spent with him, holding his face and stroking his hair either in comfort or leisure or subconsciously as they spoke.

Lucius stood, placing Hermione on the ground and striding to the door before Hermione thought of something. Something of vital interest.

"Wait!" Hermione shrieked as he approached the door. She crawled to Lucius and latched on to his leg gently, leaning her face against the knee.

He bent and took her face in his hand and whispered into her ear, "What is it, pet?"

"I need something," she looked into his eyes, unsure of whether this request was completely in vain. "I know I've been horrid, but I need it..." she lowered her eyes, starting to doubt herself as the moments wore away.

"What is it?" he breathed scathingly.

She drew her breath and courage, "My journal."

His face retreated from hers and looked down at her. "Your journal?" He stood and paced to the corner of the cell, "I didn't know you found my gift."

"I did," Hermione hurried on, "and I love it and I beg of you not to take it away from me. You've already taken away the beautiful room." _Not to mention all the joy and hope in my life..._

"Yes," he said slowly, "I'll think on it." He walked again to the door and opened it pensively, "If you're a good girl, I may bring your little diary back to you."

She nodded and was enclosed in darkness once again, left to cry until, unknowingly to her, it was morning.

"If I'd known I'd be playing long-term babysitter twice this year I'd have thrown myself out that window ages ago," Draco said over his shoulder to Harry Potter, who sat in the overstuffed armchair of his bedroom.

"You could do it now and save me the trouble."

"Ah yes, Potter, you would throw me out the window, leaving me to plummet to my death. However, you would be forgetting the small detail that you can only stay here as long as I am resident."

"Then I'll toss you when I'm done with you..."

The conversation was halted abruptly by a timid knock on the door and a panicked glance from both boys.

"Under the bed!" Draco hissed and Harry took a dive, only to crash headfirst with a wooden trunk of some kind. He crawled back out groaning and Draco helped him up and into the closet, which was so full they found they couldn't close the door with him inside.

A second knock came again, more persistent this time and the boys scrambled about the room, looking for an appropriate hiding-place for Harry.

"Just get in the corner," Draco pushed him to the corner beside the door and opened the door, covering Harry, to admit a woman in her mid-thirties who shuffled in awkwardly past Draco towards the bed.

"My lady told me my young lord was home," the woman said in a quiet, dusty voice as she shifted her eyes uncomfortably along the ground.

"Yes, Aila," Draco said, walking to direct her face toward the back of the room as Harry crept out from behind the door to see what was happening. "I'm staying for a few weeks at most. My mother finds it most advisable."

"Oh, yes, my lord," Aila looked up at Draco, catching him mid-signal to Harry and giving him a slightly perplexed look.

"Yes, Aila?" Draco straightened himself, giving her his attention, "What were you saying?"

"Just that I am very glad to see you back at home, my lord."

"I'm glad to see you too Aila."

Aila's lips turned slightly at the sides and her hand found the forearm of Draco's shirt and tugged gently for a moment, thinking intently.

"I should be going back to work now, Sir."

"Very good, Aila," Draco took her shoulder and led her around to the door where he gave a gentle shove, saying, "I'll call you up sometime and we can talk."

"Anytime, Sir," she smiled and turned to shuffle her way down the hall.

Draco swung the door shut, revealing Harry behind it who was making the most smashingly debonair expression he could muster, eyebrow raised, a smirk marking his expressive features.

"So," he said in a low, smooth voice, "who was that spicy vixen?" he gave a little growl and stepped away from the door.

Draco rolled his eyes and followed Harry where he started unpacking his trunks, passing the clothes to Harry who tossed them unceremoniously in any drawer he pleased.

"That was my nurse," Draco answered as the assembly line continued, "She basically raised me. Her name's Ailanka Brumfrauer. She's a Finnish witch who's worked for us my entire life. In fact, the Brumfrauer family's worked for my family for longer than I think most Malfoys can remember."

"Do you know the story behind that?" Harry asked, beginning to really be curious.

"I think back in the 15th century sometime, a Brumfrauer borrowed something from a Malfoy and couldn't repay him, so he gave him his youngest daughter. That daughter got pregnant somehow and had a kid, and when she died, the kid took over. Then that kid had a kid who took over and so forth until now."

"Does Aila have a kid?"

"Yeah, a little girl, as always. She's like two now or something."

Harry nodded, satisfied by these answered and happy to know of Ailanka Brumfrauer, just to add more interest to his life.

"So," Harry asked, "You're sure your dad has no idea about us the other night?"

"Yeah, we got out of there fast enough. One of the servants could have seen, but I doubt he'd believe them. It would take eyewitness proof for a Malfoy to believe that the infamous Harry Potter and the invincible Draco Malfoy are conspiring against the family together."

"Let's hope so."

They were silent once more.

"So," Harry said again, "where am I going to sleep?"

"Lucius," Hermione whimpered when a sliver of light entered the cell and she crept from her corner. "I never thought you'd come." If there was ever a time to cajole, it was now.

"Indeed," Lucius' velvety voice broke through the darkness, "I have, as you know, very little time at my leisure..." She noticed his voice steadily rise from a low snarl to a controlled rage until he was standing over her, his voice a booming and his looks wild as she cowered beneath him... "And I have wasted the majority of this day reading through a peculiar specimen in the form of the petite journal that I gave to you. Now, I am not naturally a suspicious man, but when my pet has written such cryptic contents, she leaves me with no choice but to be suspicious!"

She had sunk back into the corner, tears leaking from her frightened eyes as he shook her, bruising her wrists.

"My lord!" she wailed, "I meant no harm... I didn't think... I never meant to..." she fell limply into incoherent sobs as he continued to wrack her body against the stone wall in his rage.

Her bones ached from the violent assault and slowly she could feel the hot blood from the back of her neck and back on her skin, matting her hair in places. Exhausting himself in his fury, Lucius threw her away from him and watched her skid across the cell into a hapless heap as he backed up to lean himself heavily against the wall.

"Well," he sighed to the flaccid girl, "when you feel yourself able to plainly explain yourself, I will be very grateful."

He headed toward the door but stopped as a faint murmur escaped the corner of the cell, turning his whole form to Hermione who was desperately trying to lift herself from her tender form.

"Yes?" he asked as he closed the door behind him, reaching her and kneeling beside her.

She picked up her head with an unrivaled effort and looked him straight into the eyes.

"Lucius," she breathed just clearly enough for him to understand, "I don't understand."

"What," he held her face in his hands, "do you not understand, my pet?"

"I don't understand what's wrong with my journal."

"Your journal displays a distinct theme of artistic pieces which suggest a slight subtext."

"They are all valid and beautiful pieces of literature and poetry. They're things that I've memorized over the years because of their power and the memories they give me. They place no blame nor any of the undercurrents that you speak of."

"Then kindly tell me what today's entry would have entailed."

His eyes bore into hers as she fought her mind into thinking of the correct thing to say. Sonnets by William Shakespeare, lyrics from popular music, bible versus, all ran through her mind, though nothing satisfactory came to it. As the infinitesimal moments, probably forming only a matter of seconds, passed, her mind churned and fought to find an answer to the question her lord had asked of her.

"Emily Dickinson, Lucius." She had got it, and she straightened her throbbing body to sit against the corner so that she was level with Lucius' face. She continued-

"_I've got an arrow here;_

_Loving the hand that sent it,_

_I, the dart revere._

_Fell, they will say, in "skirmish"!_

_Vanquished, my soul will know,_

_By but a simple arrow_

_Sped by an archer's bow."_

A full minute passed while Lucius gazed into the glassy eyes of Hermione, lips parted and head raised in confidence. She had done it, and she was more proud than she had nearly ever been.

After sitting in suspense of Lucius' reaction, action ensued. The marble form of Lucius bent forward and caught Hermione's lips in an aggressive salutation to the passion that the cryptic poem had drawn from the strong wizard. Hermione squirmed in surprise as she found Lucius' lips more sincere than they had been in weeks, months even and the electricity that sparked from their bodies, one in agony, one in burning desire, could have brightened an underground cavern.

"Have I achieved your satisfaction at today's entry?" Hermione sighed in rhythm to the pulsing of her body as she took the offensive position.

Lucius moaned in response as he flattened his body on the hard ground and lifted his hips to ease Hermione's access.

"Does that mean I get to keep my journal?" Hermione asked before dragging her tongue from his bellybutton downward. The answer was unintelligible to say the least. She lifted her face, looking at Lucius' for an answer. He nodded furiously.

"I want to hear you say 'yes' to me."

Lucius writhed as she teased him with her fingertips pitilessly. "Say it," she hissed, pinching hard.

"Yes..." he cried from below her. "Anything!"

"Very good," Hermione sighed as she lowered her face to the errand.

Harry's eyes flicked open, staring straight into the nozzle of a water faucet. He groaned as he adjusted his body to fit the semi-cylindrical tile that he had been shoved in. His legs wriggled out of the corner as he turned his body. He let out a sigh of contempt as he closed his eyes to try sleep once again. Just before his wish had been granted, a small drop of water splattered upon his eyelid. Probably the 35th water drop that night.

He let out an exasperated groan and shot forward, knocking his forehead hard against the faucet and crying out in pain, holding his palm to the bump before slipping on the tile in his socks, sending him flying over the edge, landing on some ridiculously sharp object that had been lying patiently on the ground, just waiting for a victim. He now curled upon the ground, one hand on his bum, the other on the still sore mark on his forehead.

A light flipped on in the bathroom and a frustrated-looking Draco Malfoy stood over him in his night-coat.

"You know," Draco drawled in the effects of being just recently awoken, "There are people in the very near vicinity who are trying desperately to sleep."

"Oh," Harry stood, still rubbing his wounded body, "well, I am so sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. I Get to Sleep on a Dry Soft Mattress Without a Metal Contraption Hanging Over My Head that Spurts Water Sporadically on My Sleeping Facade."

Draco crossed his arms and said calmly, "I detect some resentment, Potter. May I ask why?"

Harry exhaled dramatically and gathered his nightclothes in his fists before saying quietly, "I refuse to sleep in a bathtub even one more night."

End Note: I really have nothing to say here except for, of course, review please.


	15. Aila's Testimony

Disclaimer: So, I invited Ms. Rowling to my birthday party, hoping that she might give me the Harry Potter characters for a present, but instead I got stuck with socks. Gee, thanks.

Author's Note: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update on this story. Slowly, sentence-by-sentence I've been making progress on it, but sadly not enough to make an update. Now, however, though I wanted there to be more in the chapter, I've decided it's got enough to post. Also, thank you very much for your concern for my friend. They decided its not a nerve contraction thing, and they went all over with it from epilepsy, to a brain tumor, and now they're thinking West Nile virus. It just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Anyway, she's doing fine and I was really touched by the reviews that expressed their concern.

**Alenor**: Thanks for the comment on my disclaimer. It made me feel less silly. I hope your days are less boring.

**Asha Ice**: Yeah, the quote is rather opposite from popular belief, don't you think? But, I figured in the Death Eater's circle it would probably swing that way.

**ThousandI**: Thanks again. And yes, they certainly do make quite the pair.

**SwtMidnightDreams**: No, good Carly! I'm so glad you're liking it and thanks for the input. The elemental equality is something I worry about.

**Miss Mills**: Thanks for the clarification! Mwa!

**In Dreams**: No problemo. I understand what you mean about not being in the mood to review. It makes me appreciate it all the more.

Chapter 15: Aila's Testimony

A quiet thump knocked against the door to the young Malfoy's bedroom. It, however, was too meek to wake the inhabitants of the room, and so, Ailanka Brumfrauer opened the door slowly and peeked her head inside, quite surprised by what she saw. On the massive bed in the middle of the room was her young master, in his usual green satin PJs, and beside him, beneath the covers was an unknown boy about the same age in much less flattering apparel. Draco was curled in the middle of the bed and the second boy, with black, unkept hair, was curled beside him closely. Draco let out a soft, gurgling noise like a baby starting to wake from a pleasant nap.

If she had been in her proper wits, Aila would have retreated from the room, keeping her mouth shut about what she had seen. She didn't leave the room, however, because she was glued to the spot by utter confusion as to what two young boys would be doing in the same bed in the chamber of her young lord.

Draco's eyes fluttered open slowly and he snuggled for a moment even deeper in the embrace in which he was held. He rolled over on to his back, with his eyes closed and sighed deeply until he heard a muffled noise from the end of the room. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, annoyed at whoever had intruded upon his slumber.

Of course he was surprised to see his nursemaid standing against the door with wide eyes and a stunned look of utter confusion marking her middle-aged face. He was even more surprised when he realized the exact reason for her astonished expression when he tilted his face to the side to meet the slowly waking semblance of Harry Potter, limbs wrapped about his own.

Being kind, I would say that Draco removed himself from Harry and woke him up to inform him of their less than upright appearance. However, to be honest, I must say that he screamed like a little girl and shot out of the bed wiping his hands on his pants as if to remove the presence that still lingered, which did wake Harry and made him realize just what Aila witnessed, causing him in turn to squeal and jump to the opposite side of the bed, wiping his hands upon his sleeves in a similar manner.

Aila was becoming even more frightened for the sanity of the Malfoy she adored so much and kept creeping backwards as if to shrink from the room while still watching the events.

"What was that?!" Draco shrieked across the bed at Harry.

"You tell me, lover boy!"

"Me?" Draco convulsed slightly and sputtered, "You were spooning me for goodness sake."

Harry inhaled through his teeth and crossed his arms, saying calmly, "I didn't hear any complaints."

Draco took a sharp intake of breath and brought his hand dramatically to his chest, replying in a high-pitched voice, "I feel violated."

"Please Sir..." Aila whimpered from her corner.

Both boys turned wildly to the woman facing them and glanced back and forth in a panic.

"Draco," Harry whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "What do I do?"

"Just be very still," Draco answered and crept forward to get Aila and help her to the bed.

"Now, Aila," Draco said quietly, holding her shaking hands in his, "This isn't what it looks like."

"God no!" Harry cried from behind.

"I said still!" Draco shot back and Harry sat on the floor obediently, tilting his head to hear the hushed conversation.

Aila nodded, mouth slightly agape as she slowly looked from Draco to Harry and back to Draco.

"Aila," Draco said, noticing her waning attention, "Are you listening to me?"

She focused on Draco and nodded limply.

"This is a friend of mine," Draco said slowly, "and he's had to stay here for a few nights." Draco continued uncertainly, "So, we didn't have anywhere else for him to sleep except in the bed..." Okay, he thought this was making sense so he kept up with it. "And I couldn't very well sleep on the floor..."

"Or in a bathtub," Harry said from the ground.

Draco closed his eyes in annoyance, "Or the bathtub..." He continued after taking a long sigh, "So we decided that it would be a perfectly reasonable thing to share the bed just until we could find a suitable sleeping arrangement for him."

"Why doesn't he stay in one of the guest bedrooms?" Aila asked quietly.

"Hmm," Draco brought his palms together and rested his chin on his fingertips in thought. "That is a good question, Aila."

"Because Mrs. Malfoy doesn't know that I'm here," Harry said and stood up, sitting on the center of the bed.

Draco shot a dangerous look at him. "She what?"

"Hey," Harry put his hands out defensively, "I'm only being honest, buddy."

"Yeah, well your honesty is going to get you killed."

"It seems like decent odds either way."

"Draco," Aila whispered in a raspy voice, looking much more calm now that they had both gone back to their bickering behavior, "Please tell me what's going on." She took his hand and, after getting no response, turned to Harry frantically, "I won't tell, I promise."

"Fine," Harry said, "You can tell her, Draco."

Draco took a step back in disbelief. "I can tell her?" He took a second step back, "Is that what you just said?" He stepped back into the wall, "I can't believe you just said that."

"Well," Harry said, twirling a corner of his shirt in his finger, "We've gotten nowhere with just the two of us. A third person could help, as long as she doesn't tell."

"Oh, I won't, young master," Aila assured him, taking his arm desperately.

Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes, bringing his fingers to massage his eyelids, confusion marking his severe posture. After a moment of thought, he raised his eyes to meet Harry's.

"You don't know my father."

Harry took an understanding step toward Draco and patted his arm.

"I understand that, but the question is, how badly do you want to save Hermione?"

Draco's head shot up in surprise at the suddenness of the question. It was as if his motives were being laid out- it was now or never. How badly did he want to save Hermione? The question churned through his system, allowing itself to settle in his mind until he had reached a conclusion.

Draco finally spoke in a calm, sure voice. "Tell her, Harry... we could use the help."  
Harry nodded, slightly taken back at the desperate inference in Draco's voice.

"Aila," Harry turned to the woman standing against the wall and took her hand. "You may need to sit down."

The fragile woman slowly sat on the chest at the end of the bed and peered up at Harry and then Draco with wide, curious eyes.

"Well..." Harry started, unsure how to begin the testimony. To be certain, it was a difficult task and the approach to it was a tricky one to decide. "I am Harry Potter," what how he decided to begin.

Aila looked unphased and nodded.

"You know," Harry continued, grinning as if waiting for her to start laughing and joke about how she was so honored to meet him, "Harry Potter... the Boy Who Lived... you've never heard of me?"

"No Sir," Aila said, "I stay out of public affairs."

"But living in the Malfoy house it seems would give you some clue as to who I am."

"Trust me," Draco said, "we keep what's private private."

"Is my identity really 'private', would you say?"

"Well, the fact that my father is plotting a seventeen-year-old's murder in a mass conspiracy involving an underground movement of Death Eaters is not something you want on your unblemished record as an upstanding citizen in the wizarding world."

Harry nodded as Aila's eyes continued to widen, "True," he said, "Very true."

"Anyway," Draco said to Aila, "Harry is what you would call my nemesis. We've been at each other's throats since the first day of school seven years ago... haven't we, old pal?"

"That's right... chum."

"So," Draco continued, "one of Harry's best friends is a girl named Hermione Granger. Being friends with my nemesis, she in turn became what you would call something of a rival to me."

"This last year," Harry picked up, "Hermione was shipped off to live in the world of muggles because her parents were flipping out over the war. Well, I haven't gotten all of the details yet, so I still don't know why it turned out that she came to live with..."

"Um," Draco picked up, "what happened was that Hermione caught me snogging a muggle girl at her high school and talked me into sneaking her into Hogwarts because she missed it so much. Well, the only sensible place to hide her was in my room because it was the only place they wouldn't look."

"After they had had their little fiasco going on for a while," Harry butted in...

"It was not a fiasco."

"Fine," Harry said. "After Hermione had been at the school awhile, I guess Lucius found out..."

"As did you."

"As did I, and he kidnapped Hermione. At this point, we're trying to get her back, because she's my future wife."

Draco stood back and looked at him with a dull curiosity on his face. "Just had to add that bit in at the end, didn't you?"

"Well," Harry averted his eyes from Draco, whose head was shaking slowly in shame.

"She broke off the engagement, you louse."

"Maybe she changed her mind."

"Sir," Aila asked, "Where is Hermione?"

"Here," Draco said softly, eyes lowered to the ground. "Somewhere."

Harry looked to Aila and continued from where Draco had left off, "We saw her two nights ago in the back yard, but she collapsed before we could get to her. We tried to revive her, but she wouldn't wake up. We heard shouting and got back in the woods before anyone saw us."

"My father took her down the back way," Draco finished, "We couldn't see them after they turned into the garden."

Draco turned with a sigh from the bed and walked to the window, a plaintive expression on his face.

"Sir," Aila whispered, approaching Draco and touching his cheek with her fingers lightly, "I think I know where Miss Hermione is."

Harry and Draco's heads both shot up at the words.

"Where, Aila..." Draco nearly stumbled into her from the shock and Harry ran to catch him before he fell. "Where is she?"

"And how do you know?" Harry asked again.

"Have you spoken to her?"

"Is she alright?"

"What's my father done to her?"

"Sirs," Aila trembled, becoming more and more overwhelmed, "I can't be sure, but I think that..."

"Just tell us anything, any suspicion that you have..." Harry began again, but Draco silenced him and they all moved to the corner, where Aila could sit in a chair and the boys sat on the ground beneath her, looking up expectantly.

"Well, Sirs," Aila caught her breath and thought for a moment. "I promised I wouldn't tell on you, so you must swear not to tell on me."

"Never," they both assured in some form or the other.

"I'll be very grateful to you for it," she said and then scrunched up her forehead before she began speaking again, "I don't know where to begin exactly, but I suppose it started nearly two months ago, when my daughter wanted to go play in the garden and neither my lord or lady were home, so I thought it appropriate for me to take her. We were in the garden and I turned for a moment... I can't exactly remember why, perhaps something caught my attention... anyway, when I turned back, my daughter was gone.

"Where she could have disappeared to, I was completely at a loss, but I did know that she couldn't have been out of the garden, because there was no door at the other end and the door that we had come through, I had closed. I, therefore, began searching for my Mika, for that's her name, and began calling for her. After a while, I heard her voice, but it was muffled and distant. You can't imagine how scared I was for her.

"I followed the voice until I tracked it to a certain statue... well, I guess it was more like an enormous vase, and I could swear that she was calling to me from under it. I looked for some kind of door, but there wasn't one on it and as I felt my way around it, a small sliver appeared in the side and slowly grew until it was large enough for a person to fit through. I assure you, Sirs, I don't know what I did to open it, but it opened and I went in because I could hear her voice more clearly then.

"I called for her and her voice became more urgent, as if desperate for me to find her. I was terribly concerned, you know, and I fled to her, disregarding everything else around me. When I finally found her, she was standing alone in an open hallway and I scooped her up, to calm her, because she was crying. Only then did I realize where we were. There were doors all around us and from some of the doors there were horrible noises coming from behind it. It must have been some type of dungeon or jail.

"Ahead of me, I could suddenly see a light coming towards us. After a moment, I realized it was Master Lucius holding the light and I was terrified, for I thought that he was gone, and I moved back into a corner, covering Mika's mouth so she wouldn't make a noise, so fearful I was of him finding us. He stopped two doors ahead of us and opened it after saying an incantation, though I don't remember what it was, and when it opened a voice... a girl's voice... came from inside of it. The voice wasn't scared or sad, merely blank, and I remember thinking that the voice could not be any older than you.

"No more than a moment later, such horrible screams came from the door that I could not keep my daughter there even a moment longer and I went the way I thought I had gone before to leave the place. After a bit of trouble, I found my way out and went immediately up to the house, warning my daughter not to say a word.

"That's the most of what I know, except for close to a week ago my daughter said that a pretty girl lived in the South guest house... you know, the one nearest the garden."

"Yes," Draco said, "I know."

"What did the vase look like?" Harry asked urgently.

"It was..." Aila paused a moment in thought, each description more difficult to form than the next, "sort of a dark purple and it had an inscription on the side."

"What did it say?" Draco asked, his voice calm and concentrated.

"I believe it said 'In the Secret'," she paused seeing both of their expression at the words, Harry's excited and angry and Draco's defeated, and continued, "but I could have been mistaken, Sirs. That only may have been it."

"No, Aila," Draco said, his face lowering further and further, "That's exactly what it said."

"That's 'In the Secret'?" Harry demanded, standing and pulling Draco to his feet. "You had us traveling all over the bloody world and that's he meant?" He pushed Draco hard into the wall; "We could have found Hermione that day if we had known it was here. Your own bloody house, Draco..." Harry moved to the bed and said under his breath, as if he still couldn't believe it, "Your own house."

Draco sat in silence; dread filling him to the brim of what he had done. He had endangered their lives plus every day adding to Hermione's misery by the mistake he had made. "Well," Draco said pathetically, "we'll get her now."

_In the town where I was born_

_Lived a man who sailed the sea_

_And he told us of his life_

_In the land of submarines..._

The song had been stuck in Hermione's head for at least two days now and she figured that maybe if she wrote the words in her journal she would no longer be humming it during the most inappropriate times.

_So we sailed up to the sun_

_Til we found a sea of green_

_And we lived beneath the waves_

_In our yellow submarine..._

'Really', she thought, 'couldn't I have come up with something a little less juvenile?' For some reason unbeknownst to her, she was in the most cheerful mood she had been in quite a long time. 'Honestly,' continued her inner monologue, 'Yellow Submarine? I go from the Rape of Lucrece to Yellow Submarine? Couldn't the transition have been a bit more subtle?'

_We all live in a yellow submarine_

_A yellow submarine, a yellow submarine_

_We all live in a yellow a submarine_

_A yellow submarine, a yellow submarine_

Her head bobbed up and down to the chorus singing in her head. 'Oh no,' she thought to herself once again, 'I'm going insane. That's it. I've been driven insane. Well, obviously, the normal human would be crazy by now. Solitary confinement with a daily dose of rape. Is it really rape, at this point? I mean, honestly, I've given up caring by now... Wait a second,' she glanced back and forth in her cell as the thought came to her, 'If I'm crazy, maybe none of this is really happening. Holy crap, I've been raping myself.' She convulsed at the words. 'Ewe...'

_And our friends are all aboard_

_Many more of them live next door_

_And the band begins to play..._

'Wait, that part doesn't come until later, doesn't it? Shit, I am losing my mind.'

End Note: I understand that I'm a complete loser because I couldn't think of any lyrics other than Beatles ones. Gosh. I really was going to make it longer, or at least make more things happen, but I decided that it might be at least a couple more days for that to happen, so I decided updating was more important. Love you all and Happy Halloween!


	16. Lost and Found and Lost

Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K. Rowling's.

Author's Note: Not at all in the mood to come up with a witty disclaimer. So, this chapter kind of came as a surprise to myself- which makes me worry for my sanity. Um, today is a Thursday, and there's no school. Would anyone like to jump for joy with me? Now that we're off of that happy note, I'd like to thank all of my reviewers. I really don't say it enough, but you give me a happy fuzzy feeling that makes me smile and giggle a little bit. It's really wonderful.

**ThousandI**: I say this almost every time, but it's true, your reviews simply make me happy. I really appreciate that you wrote how a short chapter is better than none at all. It keeps me writing.

**SwtMidnightDreams**: Don't be silly. Draco is mine.

**Alenor**: Okay, where to start? Thanks for the input on the Beatles lyrics. I agree, they were THE band. I love them. Um, West Nile Virus is a virus that we're having a big problem with in my area- it's a virus that's transmitted through mosquitos and has caused a couple of deaths. And, just out of curiosity, where do you live?

**Paprika90**: I love your enthusiasm... and the little face that's on all of your reviews.

**Asha Ice**: Halloween is awesome! This year I dressed up as Fabio.

**Sapphirechrystal1438**: I hope I got your name right. I had to look back a couple of times to check. Have you read the rest of the story, because you kind of find out who Hero and Leander are later in the story. But, if it will help, Hero and Leander are characters in a Greek myth. It's too long to write here, so if you want to know the whole story, you should look it up. It's my favorite.

**Annalaise**: I am absolutely blushing. You're too much. Oh, and you may get a little discouraged by this chapter, but hold on, it will get better.

**AllAmerican19**: Thanks for reading. I'm always excited when I see a new name.

Chapter 16: Lost and Found... and Lost 

The darkness seemed to envelope Draco and Harry as they made their way down the steps and closed the door behind them. With the help of Aila, they had successfully found the vase and, after fumbling around with it to get it to open, entered the tunnel leading down. Aila shivered against Draco as she clung to his arm in terror.

"This place is much scarier when you're not distracted by other things." Aila whispered.

Draco nodded and lit his wand, too tense to make a sound; here they were, months after losing her and they were on the brink of finding Hermione. As glad as he was to be finding her, the only thing he could think of was that had it not been for his error, they could have found her months sooner and spared her so much anguish.

They ventured down the cavernous tunnel, snaking in and out of crevices, making their way through the dark labyrinth, being led by Aila, the only one who knew the way. She would stop momentarily and glance around, figuring out where she was, only to pull them in a different direction and continue downwards, on and on.

After going a long way without so much as a stop, Aila gasped and retreated to a corner, stopping abruptly. She pointed a long, thin finger to a door in the wall and said shakily, "That's it. That's the one."

"Are you sure?" Harry whispered, approaching the door.

She nodded frantically and said, "But I don't know how to open the door."

They sighed in frustration and returned to Aila in her corner.

"How will we figure that one out?" Harry turned to Draco.

"We'll have to wait."

"For what? Divine intervention?"

"No, smart ass, we'll have to wait for my father to come down so we can hear the incantation."

"Oh."

So, the three of them stooped in the corner, throwing a camouflaging spell over themselves and waited.

Fortunately, they didn't need to wait long, for Lucius came striding into view within a half an hour of their wait and they could hear a muffled incantation muttered under his breath before he flung the door open.

"Pet," he sneered, the door wide.

"Why, Lucius," they could hear the familiar voice of Hermione say sweetly from within the cell.

It was all that Draco could do to keep Harry on his feet.

­                                                                                                  

"Lucius," Hermione cried, running to him in the doorway as he slowly shut the door behind them.

"Yes, dear?" Lucius asked, mildly running his fingers through her hair.

"I was just wondering a moment ago..." Hermione tried to think of how to phrase her question, "Are you real?"

"No, my pet," Lucius laughed and walked to a corner of the cell, where he sunk to a sitting position, "I'm a complete figment of your imagination."

Hermione snapped in disappointment and muttered, "I knew it."

"My dear," Lucius said, walking to her, "I was kidding. I'm real, and so are you."

Hermione looked up at him intensely, "So, I'm not insane?"

"That is questionable, but as to whether we are both real, I can honestly assure that we are."

"Oh, I'm so glad," Hermione sighed, leaning her cheek against his arm, "I was having some really horrible thoughts just a moment ago."

"You needn't worry yourself anymore," Lucius said, picking up her journal. "What's this?"

"I've had it stuck in my head and I decided I might as well write it."

"Interesting choice."

"Yeah, go figure."

"Well," Lucius said, taking Hermione around the waist, "I am sorry to say I can't stay."

"Another meeting?"

"I'm afraid so. I just thought I should stop by anyway."

"I'm very glad you did."

Lucius reached his hand around Hermione's head and kissed her. It seemed so much kinder than any of his other kisses; full of tenderness and consideration. Hermione pulled away.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" she asked carefully, "You've never been this way before."

"I can't say, my dear," Lucius said, opening the door, "Today has just been a rather extraordinary day."

"I do hope you will return soon."

"As soon as I can, my pet."

With that, he shut the door carefully behind himself and marched past the trio up the winding staircase and out of sight.

Harry and Draco sat in amazement for a while after Lucius had left, struck dumb by the bit of conversation they had heard. Harry turned and stared at Draco; Draco turned and stared at Harry. Both tilted their heads slowly in the direction of the door and let out a small grunt of confusion. They stood and walked slowly, step by step, toward the door and stood blankly in front of it before glancing at the other in mutual concern. After a common agreement, they lifted their wands a bit and spoke the incantation carefully, perfectly synchronized.

Nothing happened, and they were a bit disappointed at the highly anti-climactic moment. Cautiously, Draco put out a hand, reaching for the pane of stone and pushed, surprised to see it swing open with such ease.

Opening the door, they met a sight that neither was expecting. Hermione was lying on her stomach in the corner of the dark cell, humming softly to herself and tapping her airborne toes in time. She also held a small booklet in front of her and was writing, a beat to the strokes of her pen.

"Hermione?" Draco whimpered as his eyes took in her sight.

Hermione twisted her head up, completely expecting to see the elder Malfoy than the junior. At seeing him, she spun to her feet and crouched, wide-eyed at the pair, closely followed by Aila, who shut the door quietly behind them.

Tears quickly formulated in the girl's eyes and she let out several exasperated gasps before any coherent words left her mouth.

"Draco... Harry?"

They both nodded, taking a few steps closer towards her.

"No," she shook her head, pulling herself to her full height. "You can't be real... I'm going crazy, don't you see?"

Harry stepped a few feet closer and reached his hand out to touch her elbow gently, "We're real..." and, on second thought, "Don't be afraid."

She pulled her arm away from him in a shudder, still shocked silly at the sight of them.

"I'm confused." She made her way along the wall until she was steadied in the other corner, looking at them across the cell. "I don't know how or why you were there that day when I fainted, or what happened to you afterwards, or how you got here."

"We'll explain," Harry approached her slowly, taking her hand, and this time was not refused. He pulled her slowly into the middle of the cell and wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her until she gently pulled away.

"I've missed you Harry," Hermione said quietly, taking his hand, "I've missed my best friend."

Harry nodded slowly and turned his eyes toward Draco, a shadow in the corners. Pulling his hand from hers, Harry nudged her toward Draco carefully and backed up to give them their space.

Hermione slowly walked to Draco and placed a hand on his face, stroking it gently. He took her hand in his and walked further into the light so that she could see him clearly. A small tear glistened in his eye and he bent to kiss her hand.

"I..." Hermione pressed herself against him, wrapping one arm around his back and gazing into his eyes, "I missed you."

Before she could say anymore, Draco had wrapped his arms around her and hugged her so tightly to him that there was no space between their two bodies. Draco kissed the top of her head several times, almost as if his lips would tell him if she were truly there and finally in his arms. After a moment, Hermione pulled away, conscious of the other two persons in the room.

"So," she said, her voice returning to her and her sense of reality starting to take it all in, "Start from the beginning. What happened?"

The boys raised their eyebrows at each other in response to the massive request.

"The beginning?" Harry stuttered, "Do you want to be here all night?"

"I've been here months, another night won't hurt me."

"Could we summarize?"

"Yeah, sure," she gave in, not really in the mood to argue at the moment.

"Okay," Draco clapped his hands together, "So, we pretty much followed you and my father to the boundaries of Hogwarts and proceeded to go to my house to do a little research."

"Yeah," interrupted Harry, "after this bonehead had decided that Lucius had taken you to Secret House, some Death Eater hideout instead of his own home."

"Okay, can we drop it?" Draco said exasperatedly to Harry, who rather smirked- more in entertainment than anything. "Good, now, continuing with what happened..." Draco collected his thoughts as to what happened. "Well, we figured out where Secret House was and we traveled there... muggle style." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice as he said the last bit.

"If we hadn't had to go all the way to Greece, we wouldn't have had to use an airplane."

"I thought we had dropped it."

"Well, stop criticizing me for my choice to travel by muggle means."

"If we had thought a bit longer, I'm sure we could have come up with a more suitable method."

"One that possibly involved going to the correct destination?"

"Boys!" Hermione was back. Back and fully prepared to take over her job of keeping things in order and reprimanding Draco and Harry. "Honestly, are we children here? I think we can all forgive and forget and move on with the story. Agreed?"

"Agreed." They both spoke simultaneously, perfectly prepared to settle back into the roles of being chastised by Hermione.

"Good. Now, please continue."

"Okay," Draco continued, "Once we got to Greece it took awhile to actually find Secret House. Probably a week we spent just looking for it."

"Yeah," Harry said innocently, "and that's all we did. Look for it."

"Yeah, after looking for it," Draco shot Harry a quizzical glance, "we... well, we found it. Um, and then we pretty much got arrested by a group of muggle police who thought we were breaking into a random building."

"We were taken to jail," Harry said, speeding through this part, "and eventually we were out."

"Really?" Hermione said, noting Harry's distinct nervousness, "That's what happened, huh? You were just out of jail?"

Draco looked at Harry, who had his head tilted in a completely crestfallen manner. Draco briefly put a hand on Harry's shoulder before he spoke.

"No, we were in the muggle jail in Greece for about three days. They had us under rather constant watch, or at least there was a guard there constantly." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, "Then, one day, a group of foreign wizards claimed us. They could tell that we were wizards and I guess decided it would only fit for us to be under their watch and not under some inept muggle's.

"I think they were Russian... or of some Slavic descent... whatever they were, they were vicious. And they kept us locked for nearly three months."

"Not just locked," Harry said, his eyes downcast.

"Oh," Draco added in a cheerful voice, "yes, there was that bit of torture and interrogation, but seeing as we didn't know the language, it didn't do much good, now did it?" He smiled at Harry as if pleading with him to do the same. "I still haven't the faintest idea what the old chap was asking us."

"Anyway," Harry said, mustering up a bit more light-hearted an attitude, "after being moved about a bit, we devised the plan to burn the whole jail down to escape. That way, some of the other prisoners would have a chance as well."

"Yes, strange enough, it just so happened that we wandered onto my property and found you just as we escaped from the jail."

"So," Hermione asked, her first words for the last several minutes, "the last place you were was in England?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Why would Slavics be in England?"

"Haven't the foggiest."

"Could you have been transported to English wizards?"

"Back to your inquisitive self, Miss Granger?" a familiar and icy voice said against the back wall.

Everyone froze.

Draco and Harry slowly turned to the door to actually confirm whom they suspected of being at the door. Hermione needed no confirmation; she had heard enough of the voice to identify him out of a magnitude. Instead, she simply went rigid and closed her eyes, terrified out of her mind. Now she would die, surely, she thought. She and two of the people she loved most.

Harry and Draco moved instantly to shield Hermione, though Draco was visibly tenser.

"Draco, my son," Lucius said fluidly, as if not alarmed at all by the spectacle before him. "It's so good to see you."

"Father." Draco nodded curtly.

"I would ask why you are here, in the cell of one of my most entertaining possessions if I did not already know what your answer would be. Terribly clever, I must say."

"How did you know we were here?" Draco asked in a quiet voice.

"Let us just say that you three are not exactly the most subtle conversationalists."

Harry exhaled, annoyed at their folly.

"Now then," Lucius said, crossing to the group and taking Hermione's arm, turning her to face him. "How's my pet?"

"Don't touch me," Hermione whispered, trembling.

"I am afraid you are not in a situation to tell me what to do." And with that, Lucius tore Hermione away from the other two, across the cell to stand beside him.

Simultaneously, Harry and Draco raised their wands to Lucius as Lucius raised his wand to Hermione. Neither side made a move for a long while until finally, after gazing at Hermione's terrified face, Draco lowered his wand, followed by Harry.

"Good," Lucius said, lowering his wand only slightly, "I see that we can negotiate. Now, something that needs to be addressed is how I am going to punish you three. The obvious choice here is death, with the exception of my son, of course- we have the inheritance to think about- but that's not to say we couldn't kill you two and make him watch. However, I seem to grow weary of the same old thing day in and day out, so perhaps we can think of something a little more creative?"

"Father," Draco said quietly but with conviction, "Just please don't kill them."

"No, I rather had something else in mind, so you needn't worry." Lucius turned his attention to Harry and continued, "Harry Potter..." he smiled to himself, "What a coincidence that a boy we've been trying to kill for years shows up on my property. Lucky for you, I have dignity and would not lower myself to kill you as helpless as you are. I have my loyalties to think about and really, my circle of friends would be disappointed if they didn't get to join in the fun of killing you."

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the thought of Lucius' friends ganging up on him because he killed 'Harry Potter' without telling them to come over and join in.

"So, after thinking on it for quite some time," Lucius started up again with a new, more jovial expression, "I think I've come up with the solution. And it can be solved right now, with a simple little wedding."

The response that met the last word of his solution was something different from anything else that had been said during their time together in the cell. The three friends' eyes all widened about four times their size and Hermione's jaw actually dropped a couple of inches. Lucius merely smiled pleasantly to himself.

"A wedding?" Hermione finally choked out.

"Yes, my dear, a wedding. Between yourself and Mr. Potter over there."

Harry's forehead crinkled in confusion and Hermione and Draco exchanged desperate glances toward each other.

"Why?" Harry asked, crossing his arms as if this were the most casual situation in the world.

"I'm sure if you think real hard," Lucius said in a low voice, returning to his normally slimy self, "Even you could figure it out. Now, let's get to business, shall we?" With that, Lucius conjured a handful of papers, a small table, and two chairs in front of him. "Alright, you two, start filling out the paperwork. And if either of you try anything I'm still not counting the whole death thing out completely."

Hermione and Harry sat at either ends of the table and slowly began filling out the information on the legal documents to say that they were married.

"Hermione," Harry whispered across the table, "I'm really sorry."

Hermione simply shook her head and threw one more sad look toward Draco, who had slumped into a corner disconsolately. Pretty soon they had finished and stood, gazing down at the papers as if they were some sort of wild animal about to tear them to shreds.

"All we need now is a witness," Lucius said, handing the pen to Draco, who slowly came from his corner and signed on the line allotted him. "Well, then," Lucius said, taking his son's arm and pointing his wand at the couple now standing across from him. "I suppose it would only be proper to pronounce the two of you man and wife." He gave one horrible sneer and said, "Finis Finium," leaving the Malfoys alone in the cell and sending the Potters far away.

End Note: I know, that was a bit random. It just kind of came to me that that could be Lucius' punishment and I went with it. I just really wanted Hermione to be out so I could write in a different setting and stuff. I apologize to people who are getting frustrated with the whole Harry/Hermione thing (I'm one of you), but I swear the story is not over, so don't worry.


	17. Return Home

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They belong to an enormous conspiracy of sadistic adults who like to torture adolescents by forcing them to write disclaimers. The conspiracy calls itself "J.K. Rowling."

Author's Note: I just decided that I didn't want to write my own disclaimers anymore, so I stole that one from my friend Phinea. Thanks. I honestly have nothing to say, except thank you to all of my reviewers.

**ThousandI**: Maybe you've noticed, but we both read Severusgirl's work, don't we? I just realized that as I was reading through some of Madness II's reviews. Yeah, don't know why this came up. Anyway, yeah, Lucius was totally annoying me, so I'm glad she's out of there too.

**Cold feet**:I'm glad to know you like it and I hope you keep reading. Um, and I think its Einstein. And I'm completely flattered at the comparison.

**In Dreams**: claps and pats In Dreams on the back I'm very proud of you! I know how much work that takes. However, I'd like to know what you're confused about. I really tried to make everything clear back there. Sorry.

**Alenor**: I'm happy for you. Um, Lucius used the Finis charm, which, if you don't remember from earlier, sends them to the boundary of wherever they already are.

**Chibimecools**: Are you still reading?! I was so excited when I read your review. I thought for sure I had lost you.

**Sailor Moon Rose**: Ick! No, I hope you weren't thinking that kind of punishment.

**Perfect by Nature**: It makes me so happy when I have new readers. If I stop updating, I give you my full permission to tie me to my computer. : )

Chapter 17: Return Home

Draco stood dumbly, his eyes fixated to the spot that Hermione had recently stood. Slowly, he closed his eyes and turned to his father, who was standing with his arms crossed, glaring at his son.

"Now, perhaps, you will forget about her," Lucius said in a voice that seemed to evoke a chill that ran all the way up Draco's spine, giving him an agonizing headache.

He grabbed his forehead and staggered a few steps.

"You certainly won't be following them, will you?" Lucius mocked a concern, as the headache only got worse.

Draco fell to his knees as his vision blurred from the pain.

"No, you're far more sensible than that. But really, stay in this house, Draco, or you will regret it."

Tears were beginning to leak from Draco's eyes, and, as hard as he tried to manage them, they flowed with ardor, sending his body into crashing sobs.

"Stop crying..." Lucius stared for a moment with his calm disposition but, as his son's sobs grew stronger, he began to tremble in rage. "You are a Malfoy! Stop crying!" he shouted as his son as he kicked him hard in the stomach, sending Draco on to his back.

Draco rolled to try and hide from his father, but Lucius began pelting him with his fists about the face until Draco had indeed stopped crying. Lucius stepped back from his son and opened the door, waiting for Draco to rise.

Slowly, Draco stood and made his way to the door, glancing back at his father before raging out of it- Lucius following him closely, lest he tried to follow them.

Hermione and Harry landed ungracefully on top of each other when they were banished to the edge of the Malfoy premises. Hermione had tears streaming down her face and Harry tried to pat her shoulders comfortingly, but really made no progress in calming the witch down.

"Come," she cried, "let's go back and get him!"

However, Harry could see the several security guards coming toward them and tried to urge her forward.

"No, it's too late," he whispered in her ear as she shook her head and tried to pry herself from his grasp.

"No," she screamed, trying desperately to get free.

"Excuse me," the security guard says as he approached them and caught the attention of Hermione, "Do you two have a reason for being here?"

"No," Harry shook his head and pulled the trembling Hermione along, "we're leaving."

"No!" Hermione got free and ran towards the guard, pulling at his vest, "I need to get in! I've got to see Draco! Please!" she wailed.

"Ma'am, I really must ask you to step away," he cautioned gently.

Hermione fell at the guard's feet and continued to sob, crying out incoherently and Harry came to pick her up.

"Sir, you need to get her out of her. We don't allow uninvited guests."

"I understand," Harry said, hoisting Hermione up by the armpits and trying to drag her away.

"And try taking her to the doctor," the guard said, watching them back away, "She doesn't look like she's in her right mind."

"Thank you," Harry said, stopping for a moment and really taking a look at his wife.

After careful examination, the guard broke his concentration by clearing his throat and pointing out at the horizon. Harry nodded and picked up Hermione- who weighed considerably less than she had the last time he had seen her- in his arms and started walking away from the Malfoy manor down the vast hillside until he had reached a decision on where to take them. With a flick of his wand, he and the shivering Hermione apparated to the only safe place he could think of- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding.

Albus Dumbledore felt like he had aged at least thirty years in the last three months- losing three of his star students and dealing with the desperate fears of several thousand protective parents. And he wasn't the only one who took the loss difficultly. The entire staff of Hogwarts, especially Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape, the heads of houses that had lost the students, especially felt responsible and spent their time either feverishly searching or subconsciously wallowing in guilt as they went about their daily activities.

Even now, far into mid-year, the two heads of houses would glance at each other in the hallway, meaning in each look that was both sympathy and accusation. Their conversations were awkward at best. Therefore, the reaction that ensued one innocent February afternoon during a staff meeting when the two missing Gryffindors appeared was shocking to say the least.

Minerva McGonagall sat at the foot of the long table across from Dumbledore, discussing the most recent NEWT standards for Transfiguration.

"Really, Albus," Minerva continued in her confident but reserved voice, "the Orchas and Vir Astrum charms are hardly taught at Auror level, let alone standard school."

"I understand that, but seeing as how the war is rapidly increasing and may well call on our younger generations, I think it would be wise to equip them with more than the standard spells."

"Yes, Minerva," came the slimy voice of Severus Snape from the corner, "You will notice that the curriculum for my NEWT students has been heavily advanced as well."

"As have mine," voiced several other frustrated teachers.

"Even with the war," Minerva urged on, proving herself once again a woman who does not give up easily, "the students' grades must still be thought of. I can think of very few students who will be able to master the spell and therefore attain a passing grade. I suggest we allow the capable students to take an extra class and provide the advanced magic there."

"Speaking of capable students, Minerva," said Dumbledore with a bit of a twinkle in his eye, "I believe two such ones have just arrived in my office."

With those several words, the entire Hogwarts staff's eyes bulged to at least twice their size, in the case of some, three times. The inference made as Dumbledore swiftly stood and glided towards the door was caught by all the teachers and, just like a bustle of cattle, the group of fine, upstanding adults pushed their way through the crowd, shouting obscenities and elbowing people in the ribs just to get through.

By the time they had escaped out into the hall, they raced shoulder to shoulder where they met the Headmaster at the statue leading to his office, where they waited impatiently for Dumbledore to give the signal to enter.

Excitement filled the room to the brim as the teachers raced to see two of the students they had missed so much. Not just the thought of seeing them, but the anticipation of which two of the three they would meet, kept everyone on their toes. Even the teachers that didn't have one of them as students had missed the presence provided by them during the past few months. They had missed the melodrama, the paranoia, and the heroism that seemed to follow each of the three missing students wherever they went.

What they did not expect to see were two ragged, worn people clinging to each other as if they were still children. Hermione Granger, the shining light of the academic world, deliriously muttering into the shoulder of Harry Potter- the Boy Who Lived- and the hero of the entire school, who appeared positively terrified and wracked to the last nerve.

"Professor," Harry whimpered as the tidal wave of teachers poured into the room- addressing no one in particular. "Help me."

McGonagall ran forward and took Hermione from him, standing her limply on her feet and checking her for fever or any other ailments.

"Friends," Dumbledore stood before the mass of people behind his desk, "Mr. Potter and Miss Granger have been here only a few moments..." Hermione and Harry exchanged profound looks of realization, unrecognized by the people around them. "Therefore," Dumbledore went on, "I would appreciate you all hold your questions for another time."

There was a mass of nods and the staff quietly made their way from the professor's room, all but Professor McGonagall, who stood anxiously at the door.

"Professor...?" she timidly asked from the door before Dumbledore raised a hand to silence her.

"Yes, Minerva, you may stay," he smiled and sat down.

McGonagall sighed easily and ran to help the arrivals to their seats. After that, she conjured a small chair in the back of the room and sat inconspicuously, paying rapt attention to the proceedings.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore brought his long fingers together at the fingertips and analyzed Harry for a moment before continuing, "It seems you have been on another of your adventures." He smiled widely and giggled for a moment to himself, "You may rest assured of our complete relief that you both are safe. Now, I must ask you, however difficult it is for you, that you tell me what has happened to you since you seemed to disappear."

Harry took a deep breath before speaking, handling the subject matter gingerly and omitting any questionable material. He began with the abduction of Hermione, leaving out that it was from Draco's quarters and continued with their search and finally her discovery, leaving out the closing confrontation with Lucius and their sudden matrimony. When he had finished, he turned to Hermione, whose face was lowered and put his hand on hers comfortingly.

Dumbledore sat, absorbing the tale, for a long while and finally spoke again.

"And where, may I ask, is Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione lifted her face and said before Harry could even think about the question, "He's at his house..." and with a final thought, "He's safe."

"Miss Granger..." Dumbledore began before being interrupted by Hermione.

Her eyes were wide and she stared forward with a blank expression as she spoke, "I'm sorry Professor, but that's not my name."

Dumbledore looked at Harry, clearly questioning the girl's sanity.

"Don't worry Professor," Harry said, his tone becoming more and more comfortable, "she's fine. She's just been through a lot."

"Professor," Hermione said, turning the old man's attention to her once again, "My name is Mrs. Potter."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly as Harry turned desperately to Hermione, taking her hand. She smiled at him with a friendly look on her face.

"We can't lie, Harry. We'd better just deal with it," she whispered.

He nodded and turned back to Dumbledore.

The professor sat back in his chair and smiled, "I must say, I'm a little put out that I wasn't invited."

In spite of themselves, the Potters both laughed.

"It's not like that, Professor..." Harry started.

"I understand, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore straightened himself and stood, starting towards the door, "that there are things too private for an old man to meddle in."

"Oh no, Professor," Harry said quickly, standing, "the wedding wasn't like that."

Dumbledore turned towards the pair of them; Hermione now stood beside Harry, and said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "I wasn't talking about the wedding." He smiled and turned away, stopping for a moment, "Minerva, you will kindly reinstate them as you see fit."

With that, the old Headmaster closed the door to the office behind him, leaving the Deputy Headmistress and couple alone.

McGonagall remained in her seat in the corner and Harry and Hermione turned their chairs to face her.

"Tea?" she asked after they had situated themselves.

"Yes, please," Hermione said quickly, already getting used to the more pleasant things her life had been missing.

Three cups of tea appeared before them and each of them took one, sipping slowly, taking in the feeling and allowing it to warm them to the core.

"Now, taking your new relationship into consideration," McGonagall said, "I will warn you that the choice I have already made will perhaps not be to your liking. However, I believe it best that you, Mr. Potter, continue your regular schedule as you had before your little adventure. Miss... Mrs. Potter, I suggest that you begin a new schedule with the lessons that we see fit, coinciding arbitrarily with your husband's lessons."

They both nodded and voiced their agreement.

"The second matter of business is your sleeping arrangement." She took a breath, as if approaching a delicate and very awkward subject.

"Professor," Harry interrupted, "I think it would be appropriate that, for the remainder of the school year, I resume my residence in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory and that Hermione sleep in the girl's."

Hermione looked at Harry in both surprise and relief at his suggestion.

"That is precisely what I had in mind," McGonagall said, standing. "Now, if I am not mistaken, I believe you would both do well to have a good meal. You may come and eat in the staff's quarters if you would rather not join your classmates just yet."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, standing and taking Harry's arm to urge him along, "I could certainly use a good meal."


	18. Truth Hurts

Disclaimer: The pieces were fashioned by J.K. Rowling, and so was the chessboard. But the game is mine. Understand?

Author's Note: Again thank you to Phinea for the disclaimer. This is a rather dull chapter, I must say, but I am really working on getting the next one out fast so I don't lose many readers to it. Anyway, I haven't much to say except I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I know I took in more calories than should be legal in one day, but hey, maybe that's just me. I have a big announcement, so listen very carefully- this is a Draco/Hermione fic, however much it may seem to be taking a slight triangle turn. So, to everyone concerned, don't worry. Things will work out- I promise! Thank you so much to my great reviewers. I love you all so much!

**ThousandI**: Thank you so much for telling me about Grill. I absolutely love her stories. You're right; they're very much the same style as Severusgirl.

**InDreams**: I know, I miss Draco too. Hopefully, this chapter won't get you so down.

**SailorMoonRose**: Don't worry, my dear. The punishment seems to be relevant for everyone. But don't worry, everything will work out, and you're very perceptive. We seem to be on the same wavelength about this story.

**runaway mental patient**: May I just say, I love your pen name. The title works for me too. I'm glad you've read it and I'm sorry it was sad. I hope the happy factor will be up in this next portion.

**Paprika90**: Of course Ron will find out, and it was cool of you to think of him. As for the rest of the school, you will have to read and find out…

**Eve-Providence**: I'm so glad you're enjoying my story. I really owe a lot to you because when I read your review I got an idea for a plot twist. Thanks. I'll work more on the in-character thing. I really have been trying.

**sweetbutsour253**: Thanks for reading.

**Alenor**: No kidding. I'm so glad I don't have to write much of Lucius anymore.

**Perfect by Nature**: I know. I'm not big on Harry/Hermione fics either. Too realistic.

Chapter 18: Truth Hurts

McGonagall ushered the two down the hall as discreetly as was possible, trying to avoid the few stragglers hurrying to their next class. She was striding down the hall in her characteristic flowing black robes and tall hat, looking as sober as ever.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione asked quietly from beside her.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" the professor stopped and turned to her student, fully prepared for whatever concern this troubled castaway had for her.

"We're going to the staff's quarters, right?"

"Yes."

"On the ground floor, sort of beside the Great Hall?"

"Yes, my dear, what's your question…"

But McGonagall didn't have time to ask, for as soon as she had affirmed Hermione of their destination, Hermione bolted down the hall with Harry by her side and disappeared behind a corner and down a flight of stairs.

"Wait, children!" McGonagall cried as she held on to her hat and ran after them. "Mr. Potter!… Miss- oh! - Mrs. Potter!"

But her old body couldn't catch up with the ravenous young adults who could almost taste the feast the house elves in the kitchen would prepare for them. They arrived far before McGonagall and had already placed their requests with one of the house elves.

Hermione and Harry sat at the end of the table, facing each other and talking in a hushed voice. When McGonagall opened the door, she met Hermione laughing hysterically and Harry with a satisfied grin, as if he had just made a particular funny joke. Hermione clutched her side and slowly breathed back to normal before either of them noticed McGonagall. And when she had been noticed, the pair sobered considerably.

"We already ordered, if that's okay," Harry told McGonagall as she sat a couple of seats down the table from Harry and summoned a house elf to take her order.

They sat for a moment in relatively awkward silence, Harry and Hermione looking at each other every once in a while and suppressing erupting giggles, making it their every effort to stay composed.

"May I ask," McGonagall smiled as she situated her napkin in front of her on her lap, "what you two find so funny?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other as if sending telepathic messages. After a moment, Harry turned and asked McGonagall very seriously- "So, there's two pirate boats sailing towards each other and one of the boats is carrying all this blue paint. The other pirate boat is carrying all this red paint. They crash, and you know what happened?"

McGonagall narrowed her eyes and asked, "What happened?"

"They were marooned!" Harry and Hermione broke into laughter so violent they had tears forming in their eyes and their stomachs were hurting from the intensity of it. McGonagall looked at them curiously because the joke hadn't really been that funny. I mean sure, it was a little clever, but nothing to get this worked up about.

They were only calmed when a succession of house elves brought plates of food to them and set them before them. Without a word, the two were devouring food with a focus unlike anything McGonagall had ever seen. It was at least fifteen minutes before they began to feel the effects of the food take place and sat back in satiation.

"Now that I can call your concentration," McGonagall said, setting her fork down as well, "I would like to sort your schedules right away so that you can begin bright and early tomorrow; if that's all right with you. What with all you've already missed, I don't see any reason to wait longer."

"I very much agree," Hermione said, eager to start classes and be back in her element.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, "Your schedule will be just the same as you left it. Do you remember it adequately, or would you like me to get you another copy?"

"I think I can manage," Harry said, also happy to be back in his normal routine, "If I have any trouble, I can ask Ron…"

Harry and Hermione's eyes met and they both gasped a bit at the thought of their best friend.

"Ron," Hermione said quietly and a smile lit up her face as she turned back to McGonagall to finish the job as quickly as possible so they could get to their friend.

"Yes, and Mrs. Potter," McGonagall said, all three of them still slightly wincing at the sound, "I will have to make a schedule for you, but I think that can be done now, so…" a piece of parchment and a quill fell before her and she prepared herself to write. "Now, you will of course be taking Advanced NEWT Transfiguration, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, History of… pretty much every Advanced NEWT class that's offered, am I right?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione's smile grew even larger.

"Now then, you still have a couple of places open. What would you like to fill them with?"

"What are you taking?" Hermione turned to Harry.

"I help Madam Hooch in her first years' flying class and I do the DA."

"They've made that a class?"

"Yeah, for fourth years and up."

"Wow. I'll definitely do that, Professor," Hermione paused while McGonagall wrote, "How many more do I have?"

"One."

It took Hermione only a moment to realize what she wanted to take, "I'll take Ancient Cultures. I heard you added it this year."

"Yes, and it's a wonderful class. I'm glad you'll be taking it."

After finishing dinner, the Potters hastily left the staff quarters to find Ron and all their other friends that had missed out on the adventure. Heading straight to the Gryffindor room armed with their schedules and all the new passwords they'd need to remember, Hermione and Harry felt happier than they had in a very long time. It seemed that their dismal circumstances were slowly melting away from their memories with the Hogwarts walls themselves.

They arrived at the portrait of the fat lady out of breath and hurriedly said the password, blessedly changed to 'Nemean Lion' from Parvati's silly ode to Trelawney and the art of Divination. The fat lady opened up to them just as she had for the last seven years, and they entered the Gryffindor common room, relieved to see it empty, save two busy first years catching up on what looked like extra potions homework.

"Shh," Hermione whispered and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him up the staircase to the boy's dormitory, finding his old door and flinging herself into the room and on to his old bed. "Oh, I've missed Hogwarts!" she cried as she smashed her face in the pillow and settled herself on the soft mattress.

"Me too," Harry plopped down beside her on his back.

She rolled on to her side to face him and took a free string of his sweater and played with it in her fingers, tugging it lightly as if to try and pull it loose. They remained this way, Harry staring absently at the ceiling and Hermione subconsciously playing with his sweater while her thoughts drifted to other things.

"Harry?" she asked quietly.

"Mm hmm?" he turned his head to face her.

"We're married," she said slowly, her voice returning to conversation level. "I mean," she continued, letting go of the string and raising herself more on her elbow, "we are actually married. How strange is that?"

"I don't think it's sunk in yet," Harry said, the same normal level as Hermione.

Now came a pause before Hermione looked Harry straight in the eyes and asked, "Will it ever?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm lying here next to my husband in his empty dormitory and yet I feel absolutely no compulsion to have sex with him."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean honestly, I still think of you as my friend- Harry Potter. Not my husband, my soul mate, or whatever you want to call it." The perplexed expression on his face showed that he did not fully understand where she was going with this. "Come on, Harry, do you really want to have sex with me?"

"Well, now that you mention it…"

"Harry," Hermione said with a laugh. "Sorry to suddenly spring this on you, but, I don't think I will ever look at you in a romantic sense."

"Why are you suddenly so open?"

"You are my husband."

"That's completely contradictory to every point you just made."

"Okay, then, you're my best friend."

"Point taken."

"I love you, Harry," Hermione laughed and flopped back on to her back and stared off into space, fidgeting with her fingers, "but as nothing more than a friend."

Harry fell back on to his back as well and said after a pause, "You didn't use to feel that way."

"I don't know. Maybe I just liked the idea of spending the rest of my life with a man I knew I could tolerate."

"No, for a while there you really did love me. Or at least you thought you did."

"Yes, I suppose I thought I did."

Harry reached his hand across his chest and stroked Hermione lightly on the arm. "It was Malfoy."

Hermione jerked forward at the suddenness of the name. "Malfoy?"

"Of course, Malfoy. We both know you are madly, passionately and undividedly in love with him."

"I think that's a bit strong. Sure, I care about him, but…"

"Whatever you say. I suppose you could have chosen worse," he paused for a moment, a look of confusion lining his face, "I can't believe I just said that. I just gave my wife my blessing to love the man that has been my rival for seven years and is in line as a possible Death Eater." The statement had strangely been made more to himself than Hermione.

"It's okay, Harry. I think we're both a little tired."

"Yeah, a little."

"What do you say I go back to my room and we sleep on all this stuff and tomorrow morning we can figure out precisely how to deal with it."

"Sounds good to me," Harry yawned stiffly as Hermione rose from the bed.

She pressed his hand affectionately andwalked to thedoor, turningbriefly to say, "You know it's the truth, Harry."

Harry nodded. "The truth hurts."

Sheleft the room, heading straight to the girl's dormitory and a good long night's sleep.

When she arrived at her room she fell on to her bed in a convulsive heap, stretching in jagged movements, as if too tired to even comprehend the concept of sleep. When she finally made her body accustomed to the idea of sleep, she laid her head on her pillow, falling asleep upon impact.

Unfortunately the sleep did not last long, for after a couple of minutes, she awoke from a sharp pain in her temple. She lifted her head to investigate her bed.

Lifting her pillow, she found the problem. A book that had its corner tilted upwards. And upon inspection, she realized that it was not just any book, but the very journal that had kept her company at the Malfoy prison.

At this revelation, she was so gripped with terror that she actually crept backward on her bed, holding her breath, as if the book would jump out and bite her. Slowly, she reached out her hand and opened the book. Sure enough, the very first page had the excerpt from The Rape of Lucrece.

She flipped through the book reading through all the things she had written, some drearier than others and some strangely random. She laughed at a couple of the entries she had made, such as the commercial for Vitameatavegamin from I Love Lucy, an entire Dr. Seuss story, and the lyrics for "Yellow Submarine."

'But,' she thought carefully, laying the journal back on her pillow, 'how on Earth did it get here?'

Her thoughts were interrupted by a scurry of girls running into the dormitory room, all nearly talking at the exact same time.

"Can you even believe," Parvati Patil shrieked while her minions followed closely, "that Doug asked Anita to the dance?"

"Especially since it's only been a week since you two broke up," Magnolia Hornflower said as they rallied around Parvati's bed to comfort her.

"Yes, Maggie, I don't want to think about it! It's hard enough, having my heart broken by that scum so close to Valentine's Day, but for him to 'get over' me and ask that little slut!"

"How degrading," Lavender Brown shook her head sadly and passed Parvati a handful of tissues.

"Thank you," Parvati blew her nose profusely and continued to rage while Hermione crept out of her corner, assuming defensive mode. To be back in Hogwarts was one thing, but to have to deal with Parvati Patil and her band of tarts was something Hermione was totally unprepared for. There was no hope for sleep now, so Hermione tried unsuccessfully to creep to the door and sleep either on a couch in the Common Room or up in Harry's bed.

"Hey, who's that?" Theodora Fawning asked, cutting the conversation clean.

"Hey," Parvati Patil called into the dark corner, "Who are you?"

Hermione wanted to fall through a hole in the universe or possibly spontaneously combust. The moment she revealed herself she would fall into a rapid volley of interrogations, each question more awkward than the next. However, since she could see no way out of the situation, she was left with no choice but to expose herself.

"Um," her voice came out faint, "Hermione."

She stepped out from the corner and met the faces of five completely awe-struck girls.

"Hi Parvati," Hermione said as friendly as she could muster and giving a big smile, "Lavender. Theodora. Maggie. Jill. How are you all?"

"How are we?" Lavender squeaked, "What does it matter?"

Oh dear, it had started already.

"Where have you been?"

"Does Dumbledore know you're here?"

"Is Harry back?"

"Did merpeople really kidnap you and offer your carcass to the Sea Gods?"

"Stop!" Hermione shouted to get the group under control. "Look, I'm sorry I've been gone so long. It was just a little complication I had since last year when my parents took me out of school. And, no Maggie, I wasn't kidnapped by merpeople."

"Oh, well that was what I heard."

"Really?" Jillian Moss asked with wide eyes, "I heard she moved to California and was performing in the Magical Theatre Troupe in Los Angeles."

"Is there a Magical Theatre Troupe in Los Angeles?" Lavender asked.

"There must be."

"Wait," Hermione stopped them, "What's everyone been saying about me?"

"Oh, Hermione," Parvati said, "There's been talk ever since you and Harry and Malfoy disappeared. Nobody knew what to think about it, so everyone just sort of came up with their own theories."

"That's comforting," Hermione said to herself.

"So," Parvati said, "Seriously, where have you been?"

Hermione had slowly backed her way to the door and said, "I don't know how much I can tell you. Maybe Dumbledore will announce something tomorrow."

With that, Hermione made a quick escape out the door, slamming it in the faces of the five gawking girls.

End Note: I'm sorry there was no Draco in that chapter. I'll really try to make my next update quick so we can get Draco back.


	19. Those Pesky School Matters

Disclaimer: Despite loving Harry Potter, I do not own it. I guess the same sort of thing applies to Johnny Depp, the Mormon Tabernacle choir, and a chocolate milkshake. Oh well.

Author's Note: How sad am I? Now, I'm recycling disclaimers from other stories I've written. Yeah, so the next few chapters will have disclaimers from my story "Clue." Hope you all enjoy this chapter even though it took me AGES to write. So sorry about that. And thanks for all the reviews.

**ThousandI**: Yeah, it seems like I've seen your name on other stories too, but I can't figure out where either. Good thinking about Lucius, though we don't see any of his horribleness in this chapter.

**Righteousgrl**: Hmm… divorce... Interesting you mentioned that…

**Alenor**: Yeah, sometimes I feel bad for what I'm doing to Harry in this story.

**Sailor Moon Rose**: Sorry to make you wait so long.

**In Dreams**: I hope this makes you feel a bit better.

**dracoluvsme2**: I'm so glad you like it. It makes my day to know that I'm appreciated.

**LasangaCoatedEskimo**: You did read past chapter one, right? Anyway, thanks so much for reviewing.

Chapter 19: Those Pesky School Matters

Sleep. The single most beautiful thing in the history of the Earth according to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, who were at the moment comfortably waking from a long, restful night in Harry's dormitory bed.

Hermione stretched her arms far above her head and shivered from her lack of covers, stolen continuously throughout the night by Harry. Coming to herself, she blinked her eyes open to see an audience of teenage boys standing around the bed, watching them.

She screamed in surprise, waking Harry, startled, awake and also quite surprised to find his old friends watching them. The whole party simply sat staring at one another for a good minute or so, evaluating the situation carefully, until they had all silently decided upon a plan of action.

Hermione dove beneath the covers, hiding her face while the boys tugged at Harry furiously, driving him out of bed, patting him on the back and expressing their delight in his return. Harry tried constantly to get a look at Hermione to give her the signal of where to meet or what to do, but the group of was so thick he couldn't see her and they ushered him out without a goodbye to Hermione.

Left alone, Hermione had a moment to recover from the assault on her peace. She rested her head back on her pillow to catch her breath. In moments of nervousness or surprise it always seems it takes a good while to get your pulse back to normal.

She finally sat back up and gathered her hair up in a ponytail with an elastic she held around her wrist. She collected her outer robes from the ground and put them on, leisurely making her way to the door and nervously opening the door, awaiting the inevitable crowd that would be listening anxiously to Harry's adventure.

Somehow, Hermione managed to slip through the Common Room past the immensity of students and get up to her own dormitory, strangely still after the raucous behavior downstairs. She moved to her trunk and replaced her outfit with a new, clean one. She had so gotten into the groove of her old life at Hogwarts, she did not even realize that a trunk had been supplied for her.

Eager to get downstairs and see Ron and Ginny and all of the other people she had left behind, she hurried to the door, only stopping after a whimpering sound came from the back of the room, grabbing her attention. She immediately realized who it was.

"Parvati?" Hermione asked gently, approaching the crying girl in her bed. "What's the matter?"

"All of my so-called friends just left me this morning. They all said they wanted breakfast, but I said that I was too mortified to go downstairs. And you know what?"

"What?"

"They went anyway."

"Maybe they were hungry."

"So what? I'm their friend, they should have considered my feelings."

"Oh, yeah," Hermione said, standing, the sarcasm evident in her every move, "That makes sense."

"Hey," Parvati asked after her, summoning Hermione back to her bedside. "So, what about you and Harry?"

"What about me and Harry?"

"Well, last year you left engaged and now you came back together after disappearing for months. What's the story?"

"Parvati," Hermione made her way to the door again, "I really don't know what to tell you. Just don't be mad at Lavender, Maggie, and Jill. They just wanted some breakfast."

Hermione made left the room quickly, again detesting the awkwardness following any conversation with Parvati Patil. Avoiding the chance that Parvati would follow her out into the hallway, Hermione raced down the stairs to the Common Room. She traced Harry immediately, but it was something else that caught her attention far before Harry, and that was the mass of red hair directly beside Harry.

Gathering her courage at seeing her best friend again, she ran to them and tackled the redhead full force, knocking him to the ground. He rolled over and caught her in a bear-like embrace, kissing the top of her head as tears filled her eyes.

"Ron," she cried, laughing ecstatically, "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, Hermione!" he laughed back, rising to his feet and bringing her up with him.

They stood together, the trio together again, and smiled at the perfection of it. All was once again right with the world.

"So," Ron said, a smile still gleaming on his face, "Do you want some breakfast?"

Hermione and Harry smiled together and nodded, pulling Ron out of the Common Room and down the hall. They seemed to reach the Great Hall in a matter of moments and were at their old usual seat together again. Hermione thought she could almost hear the choir of angels resonating behind them and a heavenly glow around their smiling faces.

"Harry," Ron said, his mouth partially full of toast, "Give me the details. What's the story with you two?"

"God, Ron," Harry said, leaning forward, "You'll never believe all that's happened."

"I can hardly believe all that's happened," Hermione said, her smile fading slightly.

"Yeah, but whatever happened, you two are alright. That's the point. I mean, these past months, I've been scared to death for you." Ron dove back into his porridge while Harry and Hermione exchanged glances.

"We need to talk, don't we?" Hermione said quietly.

"Is there really anything else that needs to be said after yesterday?"

"I mean about what we're going to do about this."

"Does it matter? We're at Hogwarts, with our friends and…" he lowered his voice further, leaning in, "Draco's out of the picture, Hermione."

Hermione turned away, eyes suddenly stinging.

"Fine, we'll do nothing," she acquiesced as she calmed down, "we'll live in denial, saying that the only bond we have is our friendship until we graduate and the bond becomes much more legal and permanent… and messy."

"Sounds good to me," Harry teased, returning to his meal, causing Hermione to turn fumingly to hers.

Ron finished his porridge and returned to look at Harry and Hermione, who were both absorbed in their pumpkin juice and the embroidery on the tablecloth.

"Ron," Hermione began carefully, addressing the only topic she could think of to take away the awkwardness between Harry and herself. "How's your family?"

Ron's eyes widened and said, "Well, Dad's getting better, but we've had to move him out of the Burrow. In fact, we had to leave the burrow altogether, and we've still had no word about Charlie…"

"Wait," Harry broke in, "What's happened? Why have you had to leave the burrow? What happened to your dad? Where's Charlie…"

"Shit, man," Ron interrupted, leaning back a bit. "You really have been gone. It's the Death Eaters…"

"It always is."

"No, it's bad this time."

"When isn't it 'bad'?" Hermione pointed out.

"Point taken," Ron nodded and continued, "See, about a week after you left all these wizards started disappearing. It was slow at first, but pretty soon there was a report every couple of days. Charlie went missing about a month ago and apparently they tried to get my dad, but he got out with the help of Lupin and Mad-Eye."

"God," Harry breathed and ran his hand through his hair. "This is insane."

Hermione sighed beside him. At that, a thought suddenly occurred to Harry and he had to speak.

"Hermione," he turned to her, "We must get this marriage annulled. You'd be in danger if it got out that we're married."

"You're what?!" Ron gasped.

"No," Hermione said, "I'd be in just as much danger without you being my husband. Now, though, you'll have twice as strong of a support system."

"I don't care. They'd be dying to kill the wife of Harry Potter."

"That's just it, if we're in hiding, no one would recognize a Mrs. Potter. They would think it was someone else. We'll be in less danger as long as they don't know we're married but the…"

"Wait," Harry stopped Hermione mid-sentence, "Are you arguing for us to remain married? How contradictory can you be? You were just begging for me to get this annulled a second ago."

"I changed my mind."

"Well, we could at least ask Dumbledore or McGonagall about it and get their advice."

Ron nodded, trying desperately to get back into the conversation.

"What would they have to say that either of us couldn't already figure out?"

"We don't know, we haven't talked to them."

"That was a rhetorical question, Harry."

They were stopped by the calm but demanding voice of Albus Dumbledore at the front of the room. They turned to their food, instantly aware of the subject of Dumbledore's announcement and wishing they hadn't come down to breakfast after all.

"Students," Dumbledore began, "Forgive me for interrupting your breakfast, but I have a matter of importance to share with you. Harry and Hermione Potter, who, as you are all aware, have been missing for close to three months, have returned to Hogwarts once again."

There was a brief cheer and a unanimous shuffle for everyone to stand and turn and look at the arrivals.

"They have been through a difficult time and I should like to ask each and every one of you to be conscious of their feelings. Now, with that said, I would like to thank you all for the gracious welcome back I am sure you will give to the Potters and you may now return to your breakfast."

The mass of students began chatting instantly, not so much about the 'difficult times' Harry and Hermione had face, but about the fact that they were now in fact 'Harry and Hermione Potter.' After wanting to die right there for several moments, the Potter's attention was stolen again to the front of the Great Hall where Dumbledore had risen again.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you once again," Dumbledore said, "but I have just been informed of a second important announcement that I must share with you. Draco Malfoy, who has also been missing, has just arrived."

The door was flung open and a more beautiful than ever Draco strode through them and sat confidently at the Slytherine table.

"Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco nodded up to Dumbledore and nonchalantly reached for his breakfast.

"Once again, you may return to your breakfasts," Dumbledore said, sitting down once again.

Harry looked at Hermione, about to speak but stopped when he saw her. She was staring straight forward at the feasting Mr. Malfoy, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open, face tilted at an unnatural angle.

"Harry," she said after a pause, still staring at Draco, "Let's go talk to Dumbledore."

"What?"

"Now!" she turned to face him and stood, pulling him after her, up to the Staff Table.

"Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore…" Hermione asked, approaching the tall platform the teachers ate at.

"Yes, Mrs. Potter?" Dumbledore asked quietly, lifting his face from the eggs in front of him.

"Harry and I want to know when's the soonest time we can get our marriage annulled or possibly get a divorce?"

"I don't know if I quite understand you," Dumbledore asked, as the rest of the teachers slowly leaned forward to listen in on this interesting twist.

"Well, Professor," Harry said, "Hermione and I were really more forced into marrying, as I figured you'd already guessed as much, and we want to get back to our normal lives as quickly as possible. Plus, I think that it would be in her best interest not to be my wife during this dangerous time… if you know what I mean, Professor…" Harry lowered his head, averting his eyes painfully from Hermione.

"Yes, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said softly, leaning even further in, as if to evoke their sense of privacy, "I understand. However, I must advise you two to rethink this decision."

"What?" Hermione staggered back a moment, the force of the last words uttered almost too hard to believe. "But Professor, you really don't understand…"

"Yes, Miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled, "as you would now like to be called, I presume."

"Yes please, Professor," she said numbly, hardly hearing the words the Headmaster was saying.

"You see," he continued, "the marriage is, in every way, legal. I have checked the matter myself. Now, as you said, in this dangerous time, it is crucial for us to protect both of you and all of the other students as best we can. Do you really think that brining a legal dispute over the marriage of two of the most controversial students at this school would be the plan of keeping you hidden and safe? I think not."

"I understand, Professor," Harry nodded, putting an arm around Hermione.

"As I said before, you will not be recognized as anything more than individual pupils at this school until the school year is over. However, you are married, and, I am afraid to say, while you are under my watch, I must advise that you remain so."

They both nodded, Harry bravely and Hermione languidly, her eyes nearly glazed over from the effects of the news.

"Now, if you please," Dumbledore grinned, "I would like to return to my eggs."

"Of course, Professor," Harry said, leading Hermione back to the table.

As they made their long walk back to the seats, Hermione glanced over at the Slytherine table and there saw Draco staring back at her, his eyes just as old and weary as hers. It was as if he had been a part of the conversation just held as well and their fate was his.

Hermione turned away, suppressing a gasp and holding the tears back until she safely got to her seat and could cry in the concealment of Ron and Harry.

"So, mate," Ron said to Harry in their dormitory that night, "I assume you're taking Hermione to the Valentine's Day Ball?"

"The…" Harry stopped and glared at his friend in surprise, "The what?"

"The Valentine's Day Ball. It's a new thing Parvati came up with. Ironic how the whole reason she created the ball dumped her like a fly-infested banana peal."

"Yeah, ironic…" Harry sat comfortably on the bed to get the facts from Ron, "But what are the details of this ball?"

"Oh, it's pretty much just a lame dance for guys with a girlfriend to get lucky and guys without a girlfriend to realize just how pathetic their lives really are."

"Gotcha, and why would I take Hermione to this soul crusher of an event?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Ron wrinkled his forehead in mock concentration. "Possibly because you're married. As you so conveniently forgot to let me in on until I happened to be a spectator to one of the most awkward conversations I've ever witnessed."

"I'm sorry," Harry flopped back on his bed, "I guess I forgot."

"Just a minor detail of your journey, right?"

"Well, either way, I don't think I can take Hermione."

"Why the bloody hell not?" Ron leaned his head back against the headboard while

"It would be awkward," Harry closed his eyes. He sighed, then spoke again, "Why don't you take her?"

"I'm not taking your wife to the dance."

"Why not?"

"The only thing more awkward than you taking her would be me taking her. Besides, I already have a date."

"What?" Harry shot up and looked at Ron with a wry smile on his face.

"Yeah," Ron grinned sheepishly, "I'm taking Luna."

Harry straightened himself a bit further and cocked an eyebrow, his eye twitching subconsciously, "Luna Lovegood?"

"No, Harry. The other Luna."

"You are one strange guy, Ron." With that, the subject of the dance was dropped and the two friends resigned themselves to more appropriate subject matter.

Hermione became quickly overwhelmed by the amount of work on her plate since she had been gone. Of course, she was getting help, but the fact that she didn't know what was going on in class distressed her possibly more than anything else possibly could have. Plus, the distraction of Draco in most of her classes was exasperating. He still had not spoken to her; he had hardly looked at her and was going about the same old things she recognized in him from years past. One day in Ancient Cultures she actually overheard him make a snide remark to Crabbe and Goyle, again his comrades, about how clueless she was. Needless to say, she spent dinner in tears in her dormitory.

Now, nearly a week since she had returned she was beginning get a grip on her classes and was enjoying school again… with the exception of a certain Head Boy from Slytherine who constantly kept her in turmoil. But even her thoughts toward him were softening. It was true that every time she saw another girl so much as look at him, she felt like taking the aforementioned girl's head off, but other than the pangs of jealousy and the few stinging remarks she heard Draco make about her were all was lost in the hustle and bustle of life at Hogwarts and spending time with her much-missed friends.

Her first test was in Potions, the week after returning. Snape, of course, refused to postpone the test for her on the grounds that she had been given all of the information. So, it was with concentration on the looming test that Hermione made her way to the library Wednesday night to get in a bit more studying before the early morning exam. She sat down at a table after gathering what looked like helpful books and pulled out her notes, writing furiously anything and everything that looked important.

About ten minutes into the studying process, she heard a soft creak behind her. She looked up and noticed that there was no one besides her in the large library. She looked about her apprehensively and slowly returned to her paper, dismissing it as Peeves or Mrs. Norris or something else that was relatively unharmful to her.

Moments later, though she heard another sound and this time stood to investigate. She made her way around a corner of books, leaving her book bag on the table. She almost ended the search with that, deciding to go back to her dormitory to study in a less creepy environment when a hand caught her wrist and pulled her into the shadows. She let out a weak gasp and held her breath while she was pushed further back into the shadows.

"Who are you?" Hermione breathed, terror numbing her limbs and making dreadful memories fill her mind.

"Don't you know, Hermione?" a familiar voice asked calmly, stroking her hair.

Hermione laughed as tears choked her and she leaned in, nearly losing her balance. She fell into Draco's chest and breathed in his strong scent and knew it was he. He put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head gently before speaking.

"We haven't seen much of each other, have we?"

She moved away from him and brought her hands to the sides of his face, "You haven't allowed us to see much of each other, Draco."

"I suppose not," his breath became heavier, lower and he said, "I couldn't wait any longer though. I need you, Hermione."

Before she knew what had happened, his lips found hers and she was caught in something she hardly recognized. The dazzling sensation of his mouth made her forget everything and she wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer to her.

His tongue pleaded for entrance and her lips allowed it willingly, and she felt his body getting closer, molding to the curves of her body. She could not think as he brought his fingers to her jaw line and ran them down her neck without taking his lips from hers. Soon he could feel the curve of her breast beneath his hand and their bodies both quaked with the feeling.

Hermione drew her face from him to take a desperate breath in. For a moment, Hermione's eyes fluttered open and realized where they were again. She was rushed to reality and dropped hard.

"Draco," she pulled back, her hand still on his arm, "Are we crazy?"

"I am," he said, kissing her again.

"No," she said, lifting her face and looking about the library again, "I mean, we're in the library and…" she moaned into his neck as he ran his thumb over her hardening nipple, and nearly broke, but managed to continue, "and Filch just came in."

Draco whirled around and saw Filch, being led by Mrs. Norris into the heart of the library.

"Shit," he breathed, "Why does this always have to happen?"

End Note: I know, I know. Why does that always have to happen? Haha. Um, pretty pretty please review. I can't write without them.


	20. Venting Time

Disclaimer: Much like the Pacific Ocean, llamas, and this computer, I own none of the Harry Potter characters, but enjoy them nonetheless.

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than my last couple and for that I am sorry. But, I hope you like it anyway. It is the first day of Christmas Break where I am. Yay!!!!!!! However, I'm also sick. Oh well, take the good with the bad, right? Thank you, all of my reviewers.

**dracoluvsme2**: danka

**Miss Mills**: Haha. I think we all confuse ourselves a bit, don't we? I do in this story all the time. Thanks, mwa!

**ThousandI**: Ah yes, Lucius. He really is quite annoying, isn't he?

**In Dreams**: I really am working on that transition back into school for them. Thanks for the comment on it.

**fdskfgkfgskgf**: I gotta say that your pen name is frustrating. Anyway, I'm glad you like it. I really want to know who recommended me.

**darkprincess**: welcome and thank you

**Alenor**: Yes, I do feel sorry for Harry. He's definitely the underdog in this story, isn't he?

**Sailor Moon Rose**: Wow. That was kind of brutal. I read over the last chapter, and, while it wasn't nearly my best work, it surely wasn't as bad as you made it out to be. Maybe I'm being too defensive. Anyway, tell me if you like this one any better.

Chapter 20: Venting Time

Draco took Hermione's hand and pulled her along the rows of books, trying to stay in the shadows and away from Filch. They stilled their breath to almost silent and walked gingerly on the pads of their feet in nervousness. It seemed that Filch would simply stand in the center of the library forever, unmoving and dangerous. Finally, Draco carefully took a book from the nearest shelf and flung it across the aisle, landing in a thud. Draco cupped Hermione's mouth to keep her from screaming from the shock.

Despite the risk, Draco's plan worked and Filch ran to the site of the crash, trailed by Mrs. Norris. Draco and Hermione took their opening and fled the library as quickly as possible, running until they were a floor above, laughing uncontrollably despite their panting for breath.

They took each other's hands and laughed for a moment, still looking towards the hallway from whence they came, praying they were not followed.

"That was close," Hermione said through a suppressed giggle into Draco's chest.

"No kidding." Draco hugged her close to him and they laughed for a bit longer.

"It reminds me of when I was younger… with Harry and Ron. We used to get in trouble like that all the time."

Draco immediately sobered.

"Or just nearly in trouble."

"Yes," Hermione leaned against the wall and gazed up at Draco dreamily, "We did have a knack for getting ourselves out of sticky situations."

"So Hermione," Draco stepped away from her and looked down the hall again, "What about Harry?"

"What about Harry?" she asked, instantly disliking the direction the conversation was heading.

"You are his wife, are you not?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded and shrugged.

"And you will remain so, I assume?"

"What am I to do, Draco?" Hermione asked, returning to her usual headstrong self. "I tried to get an annulment. We asked Dumbledore, but he refused…" he sighed, dwelling on that moment she had first seen Draco back at Hogwarts, "or at the very least advised against it."

"Why would he do that? It seems to me that the staff would hate having two of their students married."

"He doesn't want Harry in the spotlight and the media and the news… and you must admit, the divorce of Harry Potter and a muggle-born in Hogwarts would not be ignored by the press. He just wants to protect him."

"I see." Draco turned and continued down the hallway they were occupying.

"No, you don't," Hermione said, chasing him down and standing in front of him to block the way. "We really tried. It's not that I want to be married to him."

"Hermione," Draco said, taking her arm and pulling her close to him. As he spoke, he brushed the hair beside her face, smoothing its ruffled spots from running. "I have no desire to make you a tainted woman. You have a husband, and we will leave it as this."

"That's not it," Hermione grabbed at his arm and spun him back to face her. "You have no desire for me to remain an 'untainted woman.' The only thing you care about is sharing me with Harry. You would rather not be with me than have something that Harry has as well."

Draco unintentionally staggered back a few paces. She supposed the truth hit hard. What could he say? Nothing, he figured, and so he simply stood there, without saying anything and kept his eyes on an interesting piece of floorboard.

"Draco," Hermione said, disappointment intricately threading her words, "I have never been with Harry and I am certainly not untainted… a different Malfoy did that."

She turned and hastily made her way down the hallway to the portrait of the fat lady, praying that Draco would not follow her. She flung herself into the Common Room, very nearly in tears.

Of course it would only figure that who should be sitting directly before her in the overstuffed couches of the Common Room but Harry and Ron themselves. Forgetting everything else, Hermione fled to her best friends, falling on top of both of them as they tried to stand from the couch.

"Hermione?" they both asked nervously as she began to bitterly cry.

She didn't answer. Instead, she sat nestled between them and exhausted her supply of emotion for the night. Eventually, she looked up to the two of them, turning finally to Harry.

"Harry," she asked, smiling and wiping the last tears from her cheeks.

"Yeah, Hermione?"

"I think we should go to the dance together." Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled glances over her head.

"Why do you think so?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Because I just think we should," Hermione stood indignantly. "We have to go anyway and why not just go together and accept it already."

Before Harry could answer, Hermione had run past them to the stairs and up to her dormitory. The boys were left more or less speechless.

Ginny and Hermione were in their dormitory the night of February 14 putting the finishing touches on their outfits for the ball. Ginny looked lovely in her dove-gray gown and black cloak, but she knew she had nothing on Hermione that night. It wasn't with jealousy that she saw Hermione, but with a gentle admiration and rapt attention. For as long as she had known her there had never been a time that Hermione had proven such a high caliber of beauty.

Hermione's hair fell in shoulder-length curls that were soft and smooth, only waving until the ends where they curled into soft ringlets. It was held back from her face by a single glistening pin lined with crystals. Her gown fit securely to her voluptuous, but not overly shapely body and it was the color of a deep crimson. The neckline fell in a deep oval, revealing her milky skin and prim collarbone and neck. It was simple, elegant and sexy.

"Alright, Ginny," Hermione said, turning from the mirror, "I guess we'd better get this over with, huh?"

"It's not like some chore, Hermione," Ginny laughed as she hid her wand in the folds of her cloak. "It's supposed to be fun."

"I'm dreading it."

"Don't," Ginny squeezed Hermione's arm, "Just take a break tonight."

"If only." Hermione followed Ginny out the door and down the stairs.

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, unable to take another step. The fear of the crowd, watching her and Harry, rushed into her head and made her light-headed. She did not want it. She wanted to be Hermione Granger again, the star student who was nothing more than friends with everyone. Who didn't get crushes, didn't become irrational, and didn't care what other people thought of her. But she wasn't that person anymore. She had been caught in a limbo of emotions and two minds were at war to claim her. This confusion made her angry, and with that, she marched back up the stairs and flung herself into her room and on the bed.

She sat very still, hating herself for her inability to handle the situation. Suddenly, she thought of Draco. She did not know why his face had entered her head, but she found herself become angrier than she had been already. She suddenly felt a bit nauseous and flopped across the bed on her stomach, stuffing her face in her pillow, trying to rid her thoughts of him.

"Go away!" she shouted into her pillow, furious at her immaturity. "He is gorgeous," she said to herself, "I'll give you that. And he's charming as hell, but he's Draco Malfoy." She sat up.

"He's Draco Malfoy," she said aloud again. "What am I thinking?" She laughed and laid her head back on the pillow. "Draco Malfoy," she repeated again. "The rude, obnoxious, arrogant bastard that made my life a living hell for six years." She laughed again, stunned at herself. "I hate him," she reminded herself. Then, with more conviction, "I hate him."

She became enraged at the thought of him and stood to kick her mattress, the only thing she could think of to satisfy her frustration. Unfortunately, it did nothing but give her a right pain in the toe. She thought for a moment about whether she could go down. The anger directed at Draco had overridden her fear of humiliation. She was about to step out the door when she thought of something that could satisfy her frustration.

She ran back to her bed and lifted the mattress' corner, revealing her journal, still empty as of the last several pages. She fished through her trunk until she found a good quill and inkwell, and sat to write.

_Urge neither charity nor shame to me:_

_Uncharitably with me have you dealt,_

_And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd._

_My charity is outrage, life my shame,-_

_And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!_

As she wrote the lines furiously the door to her room slowly opened and as she finished this first stanza, she became aware of the presence. She turned quickly, shutting her journal and shoving it under her pillow before realizing it was Ron in the doorway.

"Ron?"

"None other."

"How did you get up here?"

"Ginny carried me on her back."

Hermione let out a burst of laughter, "That girl amazes me."

"I know. She's like an ox."

Hermione laughed again and tried nonchalantly to slide the journal further out of view.

"What's that?" he asked, spotting the journal.

"Oh," Hermione picked up the journal, "This? Nothing, I'm just putting it away," she put it on her trunk and stood. "Let's go, shall we?"

"No, wait," Ron went to her trunk and lifted the journal. "Can I read it?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "I suppose," she said. She figured he wouldn't get it anyway.

He flipped through, skimming the pages briefly before stopping at the last page.

"These are some strong words, my friend."

"They're from King Richard III."

"You know King Richard?"

"Shakespeare, you moron."

Ron nodded, his expression apparent that he had known that from the beginning.

"Sorry," Hermione said quietly. "Seriously, let's go."

"No," Ron said, waving the journal, "Why the anger?"

"It's nothing. Can we drop it?"

"Well, I can tell you that venting your anger through some eloquent poetry will do very little to actually calm you down."

"How do you know? Maybe it will work perfectly."

"No," Ron smiled, "If you really want to get your anger out there, you need to just bash the person it's directed at. Usually, it's safer to do it alone so you don't get beat up afterwards. You can even use Shakespeare if you really want to."

"Okay," Hermione joined Ron on her bed, "How would you use Shakespeare to insult, oh, I don't know, say, Malfoy? I'm assuming your anger is directed at him quite frequently."

"Almost always." Ron thought for a moment, "Okay, Shakespeare insults, let's see…" he turned toward Hermione dramatically and spat, "Eat my knickers, thou goatish onion-eyed boar-pig!"

"Where does he say that?" Hermione snorted at Ron's outburst.

"He doesn't." Ron grinned widely, "It just sounds like something he could say. You try."

Hermione straightened herself before shouting, "Swim with leeches, thou spleeny sheep-biting lewdster!"

"Very nice," Ron laughed, before standing and adding, "and wipe thy ugly face!"

"Ooh," Hermione jumped to her feet, "I have another one."

"Go for it."

"Lead apes in hell, thou droning fen-sucked bladder!"

Ron cheered and jumped on the bed.

"Now you," Hermione said.

"Alright," Ron rubbed his palms together plaintively, "Grow unsightly warts, thou incurable doghearted foot-licker!"

Hermione fell on the bed beside him, holding her stomach from laughter.

"Yes, Ron," Hermione sat up, "that definitely helped."

"Good." Ron stood and helped Hermione to her feet, "You ready to go down now?"

Hermione nodded, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes, "Yeah, I think so."

"Good," Ron kissed her hand and bowed, offering her his arm. She took it and stepped out onto the stairs only to spill down them because of the effects of Ron being a male.

End Note: Better? Review please.


	21. Valentine's Day Ball Gone Slightly Awry

Disclaimer: I long to own Harry Potter just as I long to own the planet Neptune, a beanbag chair, and Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. But alas, it is not so.

Author's Note: I cannot express how sorry I am that this chapter took so long to write. It was a doozy. I didn't really know how to address a subject that I knew I had to address at some point. However, since I wasn't up to addressing it completely, and I am tired and there's school tomorrow (by the way, I think I'm going to go cry now) I cut this chapter a bit short. Very sorry about that, but thank you so much for the feedback for my last chapter. You all know how much I love you.

**ThousandI**: I'm sorry for letting you down last time. Maybe this will help you recover slightly.

**The-Princess-06**: I know, the- "dark," as you say- theme seems to really be showing lately. The whole reason I only put the story under the category of "romance" was because I knew the story line would be primarily dark, but I had planned to write it with humor laced in here and there. How am I doing?

**Alenor**: It really is a pity…

**Dracoluvsme2**: Shucks, you make me blush… and I certainly intend to.

**InDreams**: I'm sorry you're sick. Get better soon.

**Rose**: Glad to know you're reading.

**Darlightprincess**: I definitely did know. In fact, the day I broke up with my boyfriend we had to insult each other in drama using insults from Shakespeare. It felt pretty darn good. For some reason, using ridiculous statements to offend someone is so much more meaningful than saying something like- "You're stupid" or something like that.

**Paprika90**: Thanks, I was nervous about putting the "venting" scene in there.

**Sailor Moon Rose**: Yay! That will make me sleep easier.

And now, on to the story…

Chapter 21: Valentine's Day Ball Gone Slightly Awry 

Hermione, with Ron in tow, made her way through the now nearly deserted Common Room towards the portrait hole and out into the hallway.

"Where did Harry go?" she asked, nervousness apparent in her voice. Though Ron had relaxed her enough to get her out of her room, actually facing the dance was something he hadn't quite eased her up to.

"He went to the Great Hall. I told him to go meet Luna for me since I was determined to talk to you."

"You're taking Luna Lovegood?" she stopped and looked him incredulously in the eyes.

"Why is that so difficult for people to accept?"

"It's a bit unexpected, mate." Hermione pulled him forward down the staircase toward the Great Hall, stopping abruptly at the doors. "Wait," she turned toward Ron, "How do I look? My hair messed up or anything…?"

Ron gently raised a hand to her face and said quietly, "You look perfect, Hermione."

She smiled and pressed her face further into his hand, smiling appreciatively. He patted her cheek once more and put his arm around her shoulders, opening the doors slowly, leading her in. She only had to look for a moment to find Harry and she hastily pulled Ron toward him and Luna.

"Hermione," Harry grinned and went to her while Luna immediately pulled Ron on to the dance floor. "Where have you been? I've missed you."

"I was having issues," she smiled, "Don't worry about it, though. Ron seems to have solved it."

"Good," Harry lifted Hermione's hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss upon it. "May I have this dance?"

Hermione laughed and pulled him to the dance floor, "Absolutely."

The first dance they pulled out to was one which demanded a rather spunky beat and they were very soon tired, relieved to have a slow song follow. Harry pulled Hermione in toward him and she rested her face on the crook of his neck while his arm wrapped around her back.

Harry closed his eyes at the familiar sound of her breathing as she regained her breath against his neck. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his, her tight dress tensing, then relaxing as she breathed.

"Hermione," Harry said quietly, "You look stunning tonight."

"Thank you, Harry." She smiled at the compliment, it was something he would have said the year before, before Draco and Lucius and everything bad had happened. "I'm glad you like it."

They danced for a moment in calm, quiet silence, enjoying each other's company along with the random bits and pieces of other couples' conversations when they passed by.

"Harry," Hermione suddenly pulled away from him, her eyes wide in realization, "This is our first dance as husband and wife."

Harry laughed and pulled her back to him, "It is…" he closed his eyes again and kissed the top of her head, "It is."

The night was blissfully calm. The stars twinkled above them as every couple fell into a dreamlike silence, gazing into the other's eyes, shuffling mechanically about the floor, or simply sitting in the corner, acknowledging and appreciating the other's company. A lone violin played a slow, stirring melody, warm and rich with emotion. For that one brief moment, all was perfect.

Then, the violin stopped, the couples began talking and the room was filled once again with the atmosphere of a school dance, the snogging in the corner, the battles as to whether or not to dance, and the occasional scream from a girl whose dress was momentarily stained with punch or pumpkin juice.

And Harry and Hermione, who had so been enjoying the night, decided to separate, Harry getting her some punch and Hermione retreating to sit on the edge of the dance floor.

She sat for a moment, watching the couples out on the dance floor, but was suddenly aware of someone behind her and before she knew it she had been pulled up out of her chair and into the curtains behind her by an unknown hand. The hand, she found, was anything but unknown.

"Draco," Hermione said, trying desperately to pull away from his strong grasp, "What on Earth are you doing?"

"I'm saving you."

"Heroic, you idiot," she sighed, "Now please let me go."

"I'm not kidding."

"No, of course not. You're saving me from the horrible hands of Harry, aren't you? You're going to take me out there and claim me as your own, huh? And then I'll be saved." She laughed to herself for a moment. "Thanks for the thought, Draco, but the game is a little naïve… not to mention unnecessary."

She nearly got out of his clutches, but just before she could make it out of the curtains, Draco pulled her back to him.

"Draco," Hermione scolded roughly, "This is ridiculous. Let me go."

"You don't understand," Draco pulled her closer until she was flattened against him.

"I do understand, you ass…" Hermione struck him across the face and whirled around to go back to Harry, but Draco reached out and pulled her back from around the waist.

He whispered frantically in her ear, "My father is out there."

For the moment, Hermione was lost of all coherent thought. Her face lost all color and she fell limply into Draco's arms. He turned her around and took her face in his hand while he held her up.

"Don't panic," he said, "I can get you out."

Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away furiously, "What about you?"

Draco lifted an eyebrow, "I don't understand…"

"Is he here for me or for you?" Hermione asked, lowering her voice appropriately for such a tense ordeal.

"Me, I'm sure," Draco said, but was cut off again by Hermione's nervous inquiries.

"What did you do to make him come all the way to Hogwarts for you?" Hermione's eyes narrowed derisively.

Draco shuffled as much as the space allowed and finally confessed, "It wasn't entirely his will that I come back here in the first place."

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly and her eyes widened to the size of ostrich eggs.

"He actually forbade me to leave the manor," Draco explained, subconsciously playing with the strap of Hermione's dress, "He said that you were too much of a distraction from my future plans…" he laughed and ran a finger along her collarbone, giving her goose bumps. "Well, in decent terms, he demanded me never to see you again. Thought mixing with a… well, a witch like you… wouldn't do well to our reputation."

"It wouldn't." Hermione pulled away abruptly.

Draco straightened considerably and took Hermione's hand to lead her out of the curtain.

"Wait," Hermione pulled him back in to her, her voice shaking, "How are we going to get out?"

"We'll be very careful."

Draco pulled Hermione out hastily and flung them both in the midst of the dance floor.

"Hide your face," Draco whispered before he looked above the heads of the other dancers. It took only a moment for him to dive back down to Hermione, spinning her closer to him, delving deeper into the crowd.

"Did you see him?" Hermione snaked her arms around his neck and asked into his ear.

"He's at the curtain we just came from."

"Holy shit," she gasped.

Draco merely laughed and flung her down into a deep dip. "He was looking this way," he explained as she hung by his side.

"Please put me upright."

He complied.

"Where is he now?"

Hermione flattened herself into the crook of Draco's neck and looked around while Draco surveyed the opposite side of the room.

"He's at the staff table," Hermione pulled Draco toward the double doors, "Dumbledore's looking out for us."

"Not anymore," Draco shouted to her and pulled her forward, running full speed toward the doors.

Hermione glanced back in a panic to see Lucius barreling after them.

"Run, Draco!" Hermione shouted to him and Draco made his way closer to the double doors.

They reached them in good time and, reaching the hallway out, realized their next problem. There was nowhere they could get within the next ten seconds that Lucius wouldn't see them before they got there. So, as she heard footsteps coming nearer to the door, Hermione pushed Draco furiously into a nearby closet, the door closing simultaneously with the Great Hall doors opening.

They fought furiously to silence their breathing, every movement as loud as thunder in their makeshift sanctuary. They stayed this way for a long while, watching the shadows from the space above the floor and hearing the voices exchange suspicions as to which way they had gone. Finally, they distinctly heard Lucius' voice vanish north as footsteps clattered up the stairs, making them relatively comfortable of their private position.

"What now?" Hermione sighed, allowing her shoulders to drop in relief.

"Do you want to go out?" Draco nodded toward the door and Hermione gave him a look as if he were absolutely mad and shook her head solemnly.

"He'll find us eventually," Draco said.

"Thank you for the reassurance." Hermione looked about her in the little closet. "Hey," Draco turned to where she had looked.

There was a small hook protruding from the side of the wall, at the level of their knees.

"What's it for?" Hermione mused aloud.

She reached out and tugged at it, and, to her utter amazement, a square in the wall opened behind it. A small door revealing a small room.

"What on Earth?" Draco looked up into the room. "There's a ladder, Hermione."

"Where do you think it leads?" She held on to the hem of Draco's coat, shaking.

Draco raised himself to full height, "Does it matter?"

Hermione shrugged in agreement and he pushed her down into the small room. Taking the cue, she climbed frantically upward, Draco following her step for step.

The ladder climbed far higher than either expected and finally ended at a second door with a small hook to pull downward. Hermione managed to open the door, only to be blasted by wind and snow at the other side.

"Climb!" Draco shouted above the gale. "Keep going!"

Though she tried, she could not push herself out due to the battling winds. It only took a moment for Draco to realize this, so he grabbed at her knee and continued to climb, boosting Hermione out on to the ledge.

Once Hermione had gotten out of the shaft, she reached down to assist Draco out as well. Once both were securely off the ladder and the door had been closed, it only took a moment to realize where they had chosen to hide- a recession in the roof of Hogwarts.

"Draco," Hermione gasped, her lips becoming blue before his eyes, "I'm freezing."

Draco nodded and pulled her toward the wall of a turret, which served appropriately as a shield from the wind. Gathering Hermione beside him, he wrapped the two of them in his coat and they sat in silence together, enduring the blistering cold as Harry and their schoolmates partied below.

End Note: Review please. Oh, and sorry again for how long you've all had to wait for this.


	22. Battle of the Malfoys

Disclaimer: Refer to every other chapter I have written.

Author's Note: I refuse to do those anymore. That is my final word on the matter of disclaimers for this story. Okay, I really only have one bit of information about my life to share with you all, not that anyone cares. I am playing Susy in the play Wait Until Dark and I get to be blind. This has become both the most fun thing I've ever done and the most painful, seeing as how I have to go for hours at a time with one of those sleep masks on. Oh! Including a full-out fight scene. Just thought I'd share. Thank you once again to my lovely and wonderful reviewers.

**DarkRaven-04**: That is a question I have often asked myself. Why can't my sadistic mind just have Lucius leave them alone? I'm afraid I don't have the answer.

**ThousandI**: Well, I hope this chapter isn't too painful for you, my dear. Oh, and what do you mean by PAMS? I always ask when I'm confused, no matter how retarded I sound.

**Darlightprincess**: Oh good, I'm glad.

**Natty123**: I am really impressed that you read this whole story. It's quite a lot. And I'm glad you're enjoying it.

**In Dreams**: Your review made me smile. That chapter was meant to be rather surreal in details like that one moment of the dance.

**Perfect by Nature**: I certainly intend to not be one of those authors. I can't possibly stop writing now, can I?

**F**: I feel odd writing one letter to address someone. Anyway, this subject of whether the ending will be a happy one or not is one I've been approached with on numerous occasions. And to be honest, I know almost everything about this story except for the exact details of the end. So, whether it will be a happy ending or not, even I don't know yet.

**Miss Mills**: Well, you'll have to read and find out…

**Alenor**: Freezing is a small worry, whether they will be fine up there is another worry altogether, isn't it?

Chapter 22: Battle of the Malfoys 

The heat between their bodies was sufficient for the cold to be endurable, though far from comfortable for Hermione and Draco as they sat in fear atop the roof of Hogwarts. Every now and then, a gust of wind would blow through, causing a terrible chill to creep up their spine and send uncontrollable shivers through them, but they were mostly only disturbed by the constant numbing cold of the crisp air. Hermione, who had, until then, had her face tucked in Draco's coat to keep it warm, looked up at the face of the young man she had been determined to hate.

At this moment, though, Draco drew anything but hatred from Hermione. His pale eyes were slightly shadowed by a veil of thick lashes and they gazed at something in the distance with sorrow and dread. His full, chattering lips parted slightly as if practicing for some sort of speech or encounter that he was only now musing over. Pity, not hatred, flowed through Hermione as she gazed up at the marble figure of a haunted youth.

It was not his fault, Hermione concluded, that he could be so horrid. Horrid he was, at times, disdainful and hurtful remarks as much a part of him as his purebred, Malfoy blood. But, Hermione thought, that was not wholly him- just as his blood was not wholly him. And though he had hurt her, what good was she if she could not pardon him for doing only what he had been raised to do? Ridicule those who opposed his father.

And the more she thought of it, the more she opposed his father. The thought of Lucius Malfoy brought a slowly creeping nausea to her. Try as she may, Hermione could not get him out of her mind- his face, his hands, his body… she shuddered in revulsion.

"Hermione?" Draco noticed her shudder, and his voice was full of concern. "Are you that cold?"

"No," she smiled up at him, "I'm fine…" she looked across the wide lawn of Hogwarts at the shadows dancing across the grass of her class mates having a wonderful time at the Valentine's Day Ball. "I was just thinking of how very much I would like to be there and not here."

Draco shifted for a moment and muttered, "I'm sorry for ruining your night…"

"No," Hermione scooted herself even closer to him, "No, its not you. Its just that if we weren't up here, it would mean that your father wouldn't be at Hogwarts."

"But," Draco said quietly, his courage rising, "If we weren't up here, we wouldn't be together."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she turned from him again, sliding herself subconsciously further against his chest, so that her head rested in the crook of his opposite arm. "Yes," she finally whispered and pulled the coat tighter around them, so that there was no space between the front of the coat.

"You know, it amazes me that those people down there," Hermione said, "have no idea about any of this. Its just our own little battlefield."

"Human nature makes us absorbed in ourselves." Draco smiled, "That's something I've noticed recently."

"It's true. I suppose all of them are fighting their own battle and we're oblivious to it."

"But I highly doubt that any of them are hiding from a mass murderer, rapist, conspirator and leading Death Eater who happens to bear the same genetic code as them on the roof of Hogwarts in the middle of a blizzard."

Hermione laughed and Draco gave her a stern, puzzled look as if he had no idea what was funny. "You have such a way with words, Draco."

"Just like my father, eh?"

"He's never made me laugh."

Draco paused and sighed, gazing up at the moon. "Do you remember that clever little note my father left us so many months ago?" He continued to look away from her.

"Yes…" she said quietly, trying desperately to read his face and tell what was coming.

"I have it with me."

She gasped. "Why? Why on Earth do you have it?"

"It was in the coat pocket," Draco laughed.

"What was it doing there?"

"I haven't a clue."

He pulled out the slip of paper and read over it, chuckling softly to himself.

"Seems like such a long time ago, doesn't it?"

Hermione nodded and took the paper, reading over it herself.

"I was so scared of it…" she folded the paper carefully and slipped it into Draco's hand, "It seems so small now."

Draco rested his chin on top of Hermione's head and sighed. "I wonder what would have happened if that letter had not come."

"I don't want to think about it."

"Would you have stayed at Hogwarts?" Draco asked quietly, "Hiding in my room, away from the world?"

"I'm sure I would have gotten bored eventually."

"What, do you think," Draco asked very slowly, "would have happened between us?"

Hermione turned her face up to face him. She was mere inches from him, looking up curiously into his eyes.

"If there is anything, Draco Malfoy," she said, more confidently than she felt, "that you want to tell me, you'd better get it out now, before the chance is gone."

Draco lowered his eyes and swallowed. Moments passed, and Hermione continued to watch him until finally she deemed enough time had passed, and she made to settle herself again in his lap.

"All right, then…"

"I love you, Hermione."

Hermione stopped short. Her mind froze and her heart stopped. She had not hallucinated, had she? It was awfully cold.

"You…?" She returned to face him, hands on both his shoulders to steady herself.

"I love you," he said again, more determinedly, "and like you said, if I don't admit it now, I never will."

She let out a spurt of laughter and wrapped her arms full around his neck, trying to blink back the tears that were brimming her eyes. Draco pulled back and held her face in his hand, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"Draco…" Hermione spluttered, her smile overwhelming her face.

Draco could no longer contain himself either and let out a laugh, the joy transcending throughout his body to warm them.

"Well, do you…" he stuttered.

"Oh," she cried, "I love you!"

She caught him in another embrace around the neck, kissing his hair. They slowly calmed and Hermione returned to face him before nestling back into his lap.

"Well," Hermione asked, her body beginning to feel the cold again, "What do we do?"

"Hmm…" Draco looked down at her, "I suppose running off to get married is out of the question."

Hermione laughed, "I'm not up to bigamy right now, I'm afraid… you understand."

"I do," Draco nodded his head sadly. "Well, next option."

Hermione sighed. "Why don't we just sit here…" she closed her eyes. "We'll sit here in each other's arms until your father is gone."

"And then…?"

"And then we'll figure out the rest."

Draco smiled and slunk further down the wall, folding his arms about her tightly. "Sounds great to me."

Hermione lifted her head and turned to look at Draco. "Good night, then."

"Good night."

They continued to gaze into each other's eyes for one moment, before both leaned forward in a slow kiss. Their lips seemed to fuse together, both feeling complete in the other's kiss. Hermione pressed forward slowly, met and complimented perfectly by Draco.

Draco removed his lips at last, opening his eyes to meet her serene face, eyes still closed and chest heaving slightly.

"Goodnight," he whispered into her ear, as he kissed her ear lightly, "I love you."

She nodded and rested her head against his chest, the rise and fall of his breath enough to soothe her to sleep.

Unfortunately, the young lovebirds slept very little, for nearly one hour after they fell asleep, they heard a strange knock at the door beside them. It had stopped snowing and the noise in the middle of the stillness jarred them from their pleasant dreams.

Hermione immediately hid behind Draco, gripping his shoulder. Draco pulled out his wand, ready to duel whoever appeared from behind the door. Both, however, knew who it would be.

Hermione tried to shout a locking charm on the door, but before it could take effect, the door swung open, revealing the very white-haired specter they had feared.

Appearing less than human, Lucius Malfoy climbed out of the shaft with the ladder, his eyes bloodshot and his veins bright against his pale skin. His several heavy rings shone in the moonlight. The cloak he wore was jet black with red velvet lining, and it swept about his tall body as he stood, towering above their quaking forms.

A minute seemed to pass while he looked down at them, and they, in turn, looked up at him.

"Why have you come?" Draco finally asked. Hermione nearly smiled at the cute, though corny heroic line, but decided against it, considering the situation.

"Can you not guess, my son?" Lucius took a step toward them, and Draco stood to meet him, wand raised defensively. "To collect you."

"I won't go with you."

"In that case…" Lucius took a long, noticeable look at Hermione, "I will collect what I can."

"You will not touch her," Draco stepped between them and Hermione gripped the back of Draco's legs, her heart racing suddenly at the elder Malfoy's threat.

"Won't I?" Lucius laughed bitterly. "Mrs. Potter," Lucius looked around Draco, catching Hermione's eye. "How's married life? Was the honeymoon spectacular?"

Hermione tore her eyes from him and crumpled a bit, remembering Harry.

"I've noticed," continued Lucius, "that you haven't made any legal alterations to the union. Then I assume I've made an excellent Cupid."

Hermione collapsed entirely, sobbing suddenly into her hands.

"Leave now, _Father_…" Draco said, desperately controlling his temper.

"I don't think I will, Draco," Lucius said, pulling out his wand, offering his son a challenge.

Draco froze momentarily at the threat, but straightened and poised his wand even steadier.

"Ah," Lucius said quietly, "Then we will begin."

They nodded and after a moment, both shouted curses before any expected preliminary dueling necessities. Draco's was, unfortunately, not quite up to par with his father's as he was hit with a full body bind before his spell could even reach Lucius.

Lying on his back, Draco watched in horror as his father turned calmly from him to Hermione, still huddled on the ground, recovering from her round of sobs and staring up at him in wide-eyed terror.

She reached frantically for her own wand, tucked into her dress and frantically cried the Protego spell to shield herself, but, alas, just like Draco, was too late, and was hit with a mind-blowing Cruciatus curse that twisted her body, forcing the wand out of her hand. Mercifully, the torture did not last long, but it did give Draco several seconds of horror and made Hermione totally exhausted of all energy in the aftermath of the attack.

Lucius bent over Hermione menacingly, her weary eyes avoiding him as much as she could. She tried to crawl from his grasp, but he held on to her, bruising her arms.

"Let go of me," Hermione bit through tears, trying to calm her nerves and think. Her mind, however, was focused only on the fear of what he could, and probably would, do to her- here- in front of Draco.

"Would that make you happy?" Lucius asked quietly, bringing his face even nearer hers.

Hermione refused the temptation to nod, to play along with his horrible game.

"In that case…" Lucius grabbed her jaw and pulled her face toward him, catching her mouth in a horrible assault, his tongue lashing out violently.

Hermione gagged and pulled as hard as she could from his grasp, but to no avail. She eventually fell limp against the cold body she regretfully was more used to than anyone's.

Memories flooded her mind of days and nights spent in his repulsive presence. Memories of a numb mind, and a cold spirit. She was pulled from her reverie by the removal of his harsh lips and the chance to get his taste out of her mouth.

She spat furiously at the ground and coughed for air, finally falling, exhausted and weary, against the ground.

Draco, on the other hand, could slowly feel a deadened tingle in his fingertips and his neck twitched slightly. The signs of life returned to him as his rage grew.

"My son," Lucius said, standing, and pulling Hermione up with him, "I'm afraid you departed from the manor before I could effectively give you your punishment. I believe it is far overdue, don't you? - Yes? - Well, in that case…" he spun Hermione toward him and pulled out a small dagger, one which she recognized all too well. "I assume that little number you are wearing will not remove itself."

Hermione gasped as the dagger flew toward her breast, slicing her bodice open and leaving her breathless from the cold against her skin- covered by nothing but her underwear. Lucius reached out and pulled her to him, pressed up against his body. She was actually instinctively grateful, because his body created warmth, but the familiar heat rising suddenly brought convulsive shudders and she tried frantically to tear away from him.

"Please…" she pleaded, glancing toward Draco and noting the rising desire in Lucius' eyes.

"That's right," Lucius said, "beg… you know how I like it." He kissed her on the lips again and hungrily kissed his way down her neck and on to her shoulders, tipping her back in his arms to kiss at her collarbone and chest.

By now, Draco was fuming from his half-frozen prison and it was all he could do not to try and shake off the remaining effects of Petrificus Totalus and run at his father with numb legs. His patience paid off though, for, about two minutes after his instinct told him to fly, he could feel the tingle reach his toes and he knew he could move freely.

Lucius had, in two minutes, run Hermione into the turret behind them and, still clothed, was thrusting himself against her viciously, emitting screams and wails from Hermione with each blow.

"My pet, your presence has been missed," Lucius would breathe raggedly into her ear between kisses as he wrapped her legs about his hips and groped her silk-covered bottom.

And so, it happened that Lucius had become far too engrossed in his own episode to realize that his son had risen from his paralyzed state and was slowly making his way toward them. Hermione, though, did see Draco, and she was suddenly filled with hope. Hope that caused her to push as hard against the wall behind as she could to fling Lucius backward on to the ground, tossing Hermione aside in the process.

She crawled away and watched in amazement as Draco beat his father nearly senseless on the roof of Hogwarts.

Draco kicked Lucius in the stomach as hard as he could, over and over again until he was spitting and coughing blood. The younger Malfoy then reached for his wand, desperate to cause just as much pain as he had just done to Hermione through the Cruciatus curse. But when he turned for a moment from Lucius, his father reached out and caught him by the ankle, sending him sprawled on the ground and straddled.

Lucius repaid the damage done to him two-fold by beating Draco in the face and stomach mercilessly until Draco's face had become practically mutilated by the thick rings Lucius wore. Hermione, though, for the first time that evening, was not helpless and she crawled to her discarded wand and took aim at Lucius, sending him flying into the turret that he had so brutally battered her against.

Draco stood and faced his father again, still heaving from the fight. He spat twice and straightened himself, waiting expectantly for his father to join him again. Lucius stood and, similarly to his son, spat and faced him.

Finally, Lucius ran full-speed at Draco as Hermione watched on, terrified. Then, in one small moment, it was all over.

Lucius met Draco where he was standing at the edge of the roof and Draco merely ducked, flipping his father over his back, and unknowingly, sending him plummeting down the wall of Hogwarts to land in a broken heap on the ground.

Hermione and Draco both froze. Draco stood, looking at his father's limp, dead body below and held his breath, waiting for everything to be a dream. The night had been too strange to be true. For, as he saw Lucius nearly rape the woman he loved, and as he battled him, apparently to the death, he could have sworn that he had hated no one more in his entire life. But now, looking at the still body of the man that raised him, he was filled with grief.

He turned suddenly and sent a desperate look toward Hermione, who was shaken from her trance and ran to him, holding him in her naked arms.

"I killed him…" Draco cried into her hair, "I killed my own father."

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought about the nightmare that had been removed from her life… and the nightmare that had been placed in the man's she loved.

Suddenly, they could hear a raucous beneath them on the lawn and they distinctly recognized the voices of students. Most screaming and buzzing about finding Lucius' dead body outside their Valentine's Day Ball. Before Hermione could stop him, Draco had run to the edge again, bringing attention to himself, and making many of the students point and shout accusations.

Realizing his monumental error, Draco returned to Hermione quickly and said hurriedly, "They know. They know I did it."

"Calm down," Hermione tried to stroke his hair and hold his hand- anything she could think of to calm him down. But it didn't work. The prospect of being condemned as the murderer of his own father was more than Draco could handle.

"I have to go," he cried as he paced feverishly back and forth.

"No," Hermione stammered, tears coming to her eyes at the very words.

"Do you understand what I did, Hermione?" Draco turned and took Hermione's shoulders in his hands, "I am a murderer."

"It was self-defense," Hermione assured him, holding his face and subconsciously wiping away the blood and tears, "No one could condemn you for it." She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered fervently, "You saved my life, Draco."

Draco spent a moment in her embrace, savoring the feel of her, then pulled away gently, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Remember, Hermione," he whispered, "I love you."

"What are you going to do?" she asked as he approached the edge of the roof once more.

She was relieved beyond imagination when he simply raised his wand and accioed his broom. However, she was also terrified at the realization of him really leaving her.

"No, wait," she said as he mounted his broom. "Take me with you. We'll steal away together, Draco," she spoke feverishly, as if she herself didn't know what was coming out of her mouth. "You can't leave me, I won't know what to do without you…"

Draco reached out his hand and stroked her hair, silencing her. He said calmly, "Go to your dormitory, get your robes on, and go down to the crowd and ask what's happened. No one's seen you. You won't be mixed up in his death."

"I'm not worried about that…" Hermione said, tears streaming down her face.

"I know," Draco nodded. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips and said quietly, "I will be back for you. But if you come with me now they'll think I've kidnapped you or you killed him with me or… anything else. We're both safe if they don't know we were together…" he kissed her once more and made to kick off.

"You promise you'll be back?" Hermione cried, taking his hand.

"I swear I'll be back," Draco said frantically, looking down at the crowd below him, growing by the second. "I've got to go."

Hermione nodded and backed away, letting go of his hand. "I love you."

Draco nodded and blew her one last kiss, jetting himself out into the night air and out of sight.

Hermione took a moment to grasp what had occurred that night. Just as Draco had previously wondered, she now thought that the whole thing would be a dream and that any moment she could awake and Draco would be back, lying beside her up on this snowy rooftop.

The chill blew through again and Hermione realized that standing in the snow in nothing but a skirt and bra was a most unpractical way of keeping from hypothermia, so, in a bit of a daze, she climbed back through the door, down the ladder, and went to her dormitory. She dressed in her plain school robes and joined the crowd outside, acting oblivious to the events that had happened. She treated the news as a shock and went to bed that night with only the glimmering hope that Draco would, indeed, one day be back for her.

End Note: Oh gosh, I was proud of that chapter. It was the first chapter I've been excited for people to read in a long long time. I hope you guys feel the same way. Review and let me know (ha ha).


	23. A Lesson in Mythology

Author's Note: Hi. I'm back after an inexcusably long period of writing this stupid chapter. Stupid, but important. I believe it is one of the most important chapters thus far. It clears up several rather large things that I may have had people confused about. So, let's get on with it.

**DarkRaven-04**: Oh, I'm so sorry for even making you think that that was the last chapter. It most definitely was not. I am estimating two or three chapters left, but you never know.

**Alenor**: Yes, our characters are going through quite a roller coaster of emotions.

**Natty123**: Yeah, I was actually surprised at the excitement the last chapter took on. It's as if it's writing itself.

**Cold feet**: haha.

**Samantha Cameron**: Glad to see a new name. And I'm glad you like it.

**Darlightprincess**: hands darlightprincess a tissue Don't worry. It will be all right.

**Usuu Bishouji**: I most definitely will.

**Dracoluvsme2**: That makes me so happy to hear. I'm really flattered.

**Chibimecools**: If you died I'd never forgive myself. Thanks for the enthusiasm.

**GoddessofRa**: laughs really hard Your review made me laugh and smile. I'm afraid I've never seen Charmed or Angel, but please feel free to give me the updates on them.

**Sweetncute325**: I'm so glad my humor is appreciated. A lot of people simply find me stupid.

**Miss Mills**: Anything for you, love.

**Crash-kiks-ass**: I'm really glad you like it. However, if I may say, I hope you're not just looking for romance in this romance because, while it's in there, and it's still coming, it's not what I set out to write. I set out to write a good story. So, I'm sorry to frustrate you and thank you for the eloquent compliment.

Chapter 23: A Lesson in Mythology 

Hermione awoke from a restless sleep while the moon was still hanging in the morning sky. She turned her weary head on her pillow and closed her eye once more, firmly believing that all of the past events had been only a dream. That the dance and Lucius and Draco's flight had all been mere fantasy- a nightmare played by her cruel mind.

Yet, while she thought about it, she was just as glad this morning as she was distressed. Yes, Draco was gone, but he did in fact love her. The knowledge of that, plus the death of the one human being she despised most, made her heart nearly burst.

She finally resigned herself to waking up. It was inevitable anyway, wasn't it? She sat up on the bed and felt with her feet for her slippers, only to stub her toe on something hard instead. It was the journal still kept from months ago.

She hadn't recalled leaving it by her bed. In fact, she thought she had stored it in her trunk; but perhaps she had simply forgotten.

Hermione bent to pick up the journal, ready to replace it in her trunk before she realized that the book had been marked by a long thread hanging out the side. She pulled at the thread to flip open the journal to the marked page and her heart nearly stopped.

It was Draco's writing. Hermione knew instinctively having copied what seemed like hundreds of notes from him during her months of hiding in his dormitory. It was Draco's writing.

Moments passed before Hermione could adjust her mind to actually reading the words scrawled out on the page.

_Good morning my dear, I hope your sleep was sweet._

_Already word has passed my ears of the death of Lucius Malfoy and the culprit to be blamed. There had been a brief time when I second-guessed myself and truly thought I had gone unseen last night on the rooftop. But I certainly had not. The Death Eater circle is buzzing with news of the traitorous son of the respected Lucius Malfoy. _

_Therefore have I gone into hiding. I dearly wish I could tell you where but since I find that impossible, I will disclose only one fact. I am near. Perhaps not near enough to touch and see, but near enough to feel your presence and hold on to the hope that one day I will be with you again. And so, love, with that in mind, I bid you go though your day with a happy heart and a clear mind._

_Draco Malfoy_

Hermione lowered the page as if from a dream. Draco was indeed watching out for her and that alone could be her food and drink as long as she needed.

Once she readily recovered from the sheer shock of the words, she realized how dangerous this note was if found by the wrong people. She hurriedly wrapped it in a couple of her shirts and stuffed it in her trunk before getting ready for the day.

The school was in an uproar. Questions about Lucius Malfoy's death spread like wildfire and suddenly everyone knew all the answers. The most popular story was that Mr. Malfoy had come to find Harry Potter and Draco had gotten jealous, the two ending up in a fight as to who would murder the Boy Who Lived. Being Harry's best friend, Ron was terrified and spent the day chasing off anyone who had so much as a word to say to Harry. As Harry's wife, best friend and one known for her emotional outbursts, everyone was baffled at the collected attitude of Hermione. She went about her day smiling and nodding calmly at any questions about Harry's condition.

To be honest, she simply didn't care. She thought the frantic gossip so dull it was nearly unbearable. Of course, being the only person to truly have witnessed Lucius' murder, Hermione also found it amusing to listen in on all of the theories. Really, though, only one thing remained on her contented mind throughout the day, and that was that Draco had escaped this ruthless crowd. She hated to imagine what would have happened if he had stayed.

Not that he couldn't have handled himself. He was always one to have the upper hand on any situation. The rumors would be quieter, the whispers unseen, but they would have been present and the fear and paranoia in the innocent halls would have been overwhelming.

It wasn't until early afternoon that her information caught up to her. It was the middle of Transfiguration and Hermione was spacing considerably, gazing out the window at the empty sky, while material of switching spells was being pelted their direction.

Hermione's attention was finally pulled forward at McGonagall's sudden silence. A rolled note had appeared before her and she was reading it silently. She rerolled and tied it and held it in front of her.

"Hermione Granger," she called, "the headmaster would like a word with you in his office. Please deliver this note back to him."

Hermione slowly stood and walked to her professor, suddenly very afraid of what exactly the headmaster could need from her. She made her way hesitantly out of the room, the scroll in hand to return to the headmaster and walked numbly through the corridors, her mind buzzing with possibilities.

Did he know that Hermione had been there that night? Would Harry be there and would he have news about how to annul their marriage? Or could he possibly know where Draco was?

Hermione's heart froze and she stopped still in the hallway at the thought that ran through her head.

Could Draco be there? When she went up the winding staircase and into the headmaster's office would she actually see Draco? It made sense in her mind. What better place to hide from a group of Death Eaters than at Hogwarts itself. And, she thought, Dumbledore would undoubtedly believe Draco's story and side with him over everyone else. Dumbledore was sensible like that. After all, he had never failed them before.

Hermione's breathing had returned, but it came in shallow gasps and she slowly stumbled her way toward the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Hermione stopped in front of it. She didn't know the password.

She cursed and tried desperately to think. Had she been told? No, she thought. She definitely had not been told what the password was. Well, she thought, how was she supposed to get in if she didn't know the password?

"Great," she said, looking straight at the gargoyle, "How the hell am I supposed to see Draco if I can't even get past you?"

She looked around desperately, searching for something that could be an indication of the sweet Dumbledore currently preferred. Nothing came.

Then she looked down at the scroll in her hand. Why would McGonagall have wanted her to take the scroll? Hermione felt horrible for even thinking of looking at what Dumbledore had written about her to McGonagall. But, while the suspense was killing her of what was on the other side of the wall, her brain slowly became accustomed to the idea and before she knew it, her hands were untying the ribbon around the scroll and unrolling it slowly, her eyes taking in all the empty parchment, searching for words.

Finally, she reached text and unrolled faster, to begin at the top. It said this-

_Minerva,_

_Please send Hermione Granger to my office. Also, I am running out of fizzing whizbees in my office so if you could send some up that would be splendid. Thank you._

_Albus_

Hermione blinked. Not a single indication of anything in this letter. McGonagall was daft. Why on earth would Dumbledore care to get this back? A completely generic request for a student and extra candy.

Hermione's eyes widened. This was it. McGonagall was glorious. Of course she wouldn't want the entire class hearing the headmaster's password, so she had counted Hermione's curiosity. Hermione inwardly kicked herself. Was this the reputation she had given herself? She really couldn't care less at the moment.

"Fizzing Whizbee."

The gargoyle sprang to life and hopped to the side, allowing a great gap in the wall, where Hermione slid herself past quickly.

She ran full speed up the stairs, jumping two at a time, thinking only of seeing Draco's face on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs. She reached the door out of breath and knocked frantically on the door.

"Headmaster?" she gasped through her teeth.

"Come in, Miss Granger."

She flung the door open…

Her face dropped at the sight of an empty office. No Draco. There was just Dumbledore sitting calmly at his desk. No indication whatever of her love.

She closed the door quietly and calmly regained her breath, exhausted for nothing. Her eyes rolled at the excitement she had built this up to. The headmaster had probably just wanted to talk about classes or grades. Something like that.

Hermione sat across from Dumbledore on the edge of her seat. She fiddled with her shirt and looked down at the corner of the room, fixing her eyes on a small dust bunny that sat stationary against the rug.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up, startled at the noise.

"Yes, Headmaster?" she asked quietly, redirecting her gaze toward Dumbledore. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes, I did." Dumbledore grinned and continued, "The past few days have been quite interesting, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes. It's crazy. Everything about Lucius and what not."

"What I find even more incredible is that Mr. Malfoy junior simply disappeared."

"Rumor has it that he ran away after his father died… out of grief."

"I have heard other rumors, Miss Granger."

"Well, rumors are ridiculous. Especially these. They're completely unfounded and based on the bitterness students have against Draco for being a bully. Being a bully does not make someone a murderer."

"I never said anything about Mr. Malfoy being a murderer."

Hermione looked back at her lap and resumed playing with her shirt, twisting it around her fingers and rubbing a small stain toward the bottom.

"Miss Granger, I need you to tell me what happened last night."

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "the Valentine's Day Ball was last night, Professor. And, of course, the incident with Mr. Malfoy." Hermione was beginning to panic at exactly what Dumbledore was getting at. Did he know?

"Did you enjoy yourself at the ball?"

She was shaken from her thoughts.

"Yes," she said, "but I got tired and went to my room to get to bed early nearly an hour in."

"So early?"

"Yes, I wanted to be well-rested for class today."

Dumbledore smiled.

"You know, Miss Granger, that I can try to do something for you, if you need it."

"Is that why you called me here?"

"Or anyone else who needs help."

Hermione turned from him quickly and looked back at the dust bunny. Eyes averted, she said, "No thank you. I'm fine, Professor."

"What class do you have now?" Dumbledore asked, standing and crossing to his hutch at the side of the room.

"Transfiguration, Professor." Hermione looked up, slightly bewildered. He had, after all, just called her from that class.

"No, Miss Granger," he said, bringing a bowl of candy to the desk and setting it in front of her. "Look at the time."

Hermione looked up at the large clock on the wall. She was amazed to see that a half hour had passed. It had not seemed that she had been in his office for that long. Hmm… Hermione took a fizzing whizbee from the bowl and popped it in her mouth.

"I have Ancient Cultures in a few minutes."

Dumbledore nodded. "Important class. Not many people realize it, but we have to look at the past to know anything about our future, don't we?"

Hermione looked up at him questioningly.

"We really must pay attention to it, shouldn't we?" he continued, "It's a real shame when the more unpleasant history repeats itself, wouldn't you agree? When we had the information in front of us."

"Professor…?" Hermione looked up at him, uncertain and afraid of what he had just said.

"Go to class, Miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled and patted Hermione on the shoulder as she stood and walked to the door. "Here," Dumbledore outstretched his hand, filled with candy. "Something to snack on."

"Thank you, Professor."

Hermione, stuffing candy into her pockets, made her way slowly down the stairs, holding tightly on to the rail, and out into the hallway. Her brain hurt from taking in so much information and stress. She mused over just how unfair it all was while making her way to Ancient Cultures.

Quiet as she was, Hermione still managed to be noticed as she made her way, several minutes late, into the classroom.

"Glad you could join us, Miss Granger," the tall, Athenian woman said as Hermione entered. "I just spoke with Professor Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded and took her seat towards the back of the room. She was tired and wanted nothing else to doze through class, half-listening and taking no notes. She thought she might even sleep. Heck, she was feeling rebellious.

"This unit we will be covering mortals in the myths," the heavy accent went on in her deep euphonious voice. "We will begin with some love stories today for the ladies. I understand that gentlemen will be bored silly during this section, but in good time we will come to adventure stories. Now, I believe the myths about mortals are perhaps the most important for us, because they teach us lessons and give us models to judge our lives by. The deities are above the law and sufferings of a mortal, but reading about people who have the same weaknesses and joys as we do gives us a better template for our lives, don't you think?"

There was an incoherent mutter of agreement from the semi-comatose student population.

"I thought very hard of how to start this unit, and many stories came to mind," the rich voice went on, droning to a sweet lull that soothed Hermione nearly to sleep. "Some that I considered was the story of Psyche and Eros, a romantic story of a God falling in love with a mortal princess and all that they do to eventually live eternally together. However, I decide no. Another I thought of was the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, and how her curiosity ruined what could have been a happy ending for them. But I decide no for that one too. I apologize; I am losing your attention. The story I have decided to start this unit of mortals with is one of two very normal teenagers, much like yourselves, who let their romantic ideals take them to extremes. They loved each other passionately, even though their two worlds opposed and forbade them to be together, and died tragically. The story I have decided to teach you first is that of Hero and Leander."

Hermione was wide-awake in an instant and paying rapt attention. With the announcement finally made, a hundred words flooded Hermione's mind.

_Hero and Leander… Ever since I read it it's been my favorite… Here they are, two lovers who don't just stand around moping because they can't be together- they take action… You can't deny the feelings of a broken heart…_

Draco.

_But perhaps the tale we need look into altogether is that of Mistress Hero and her Leander… Need I warn you against this? Her torch was blown out with a mighty gust and his body wracked in the unforgiving sea until the sun brought truth- and that truth is death._

The letter from Lucius.

Hero and Leander had been a subconscious topic in Hermione's mind for months now. It always seemed to come up. This obscure myth about two tragic lovers, and here it came up again. Hermione leaned further in on her chair and pulled out a pen and paper to begin taking notes, finally interested in the class.

"We should begin," the tall woman drawled out in a tone that would doubtless put everyone else in the class to sleep, "with the myth itself, as I remember it told to me by the story-tellers in the village I lived in. After I tell the story to you, we will analyze it. Sound okay?" Being met with no opposition, the professor continued on, "Okay. Two youths fell in love at a dance in Sestus." The woman spoke quietly and darkly, as if telling a story around a campfire, eyes wide and voice menacing, "Hero was a priestess from Sestus, and, out of her normal habitat, she became infatuated with Leander, a young man from Abydus, who took notice of her and gave her great attention. They very soon fell in love and he promised her, 'I will come for you.'"

The professor became slowly more animated, waving her arms about and racing back and forth across the classroom to indicate locations. "Because of the opposing sides of their homes and backgrounds, the two could not declare their love openly and so devised a way to meet. Every night, Hero would climb a high tower and light a torch that would lead her love to her. He swam the perilous waters of the Hellespont to be with her and for nights the lovers were together.

"But, one night, a great storm came," she threw herself about as if being tossed by a storm, "and, despite all warnings, Leander made his way across the straight once again. Halfway to his beloved, the wind blew out the torch lit to guide his passage and, lost in the waves, he drowned. Upon seeing his body washed ashore, Hero, heartbroken, cast herself from her tower upon the rocks below and died." She ended on a quiet, solemn note and made her way to the front of the room, gazing seriously at the students. "Good story, no?"

Hermione doubted if anyone else had even heard the story, but right now, her heart was pumping so hard she could hear her blood rushing in her ears and she seriously thought she would throw up at any moment.

As the myth had gone on, Hermione could see herself in Hero's place and Draco as Leander. Everything matched so clearly. They came from different backgrounds. As far as she could see, the muggle world and the Death Eater world were as far apart as Abydus and Sestus. They had been thrown together unaware, unprepared and out of their comfortable environment, allowing both of them to become vulnerable enough to fall in love. It had, in fact, been above the dance that they had articulated their love for one another. And now, Draco had promised that he would come for her.

Hermione could only think of the rest of the myth. Would Draco come every night? Would she be his guide? And would he eventually be killed in a storm, leaving her to follow his same destiny?

Only one thing she knew, and that was that she needed to get the hell out of this classroom. And now.

"Professor," Hermione stood shakily, "I don't feel well; may I go to the nurse?"

The woman raised an eyebrow for a moment, and after careful consideration, nodded quickly and returned her attentions to the class.

Hermione nearly ran out the door into the hall where she flung herself against the nearest wall and sunk to the ground, allowing the tears to come. She could not let her fate become this one. She could not allow history to repeat itself.

Only one solution came to her, and that was to go back to Dumbledore. He had promised that if she… or anyone else… needed anything, she could go to him; and now she needed help, or at the very least reassurance and comfort.

With the resolution to march to Dumbledore's office, say fizzing whizbee, and confront him about the Hero and Leander problem, she stood and made her way down the hallway.

Her route was shortened considerably when, upon turning the corner, she ran straight into Dumbledore. It reminded her of a strange incident only a year earlier. She shook her head slowly and tried to find the words she had resolved to say only moments before.

"Professor…?" she said urgently.

"Miss Granger," he patted her shoulder and straightened his robes, "Calm down, we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

She nodded and took a deep breath.

"Do you know the myth of Hero and Leander?" she asked desperately.

"Yes, it's quite a good one."

"What went wrong?" Hermione asked, only to be met by a quizzical smile from her headmaster. "I mean, with how the story ends. Was it an error in communication, was Leander just stupid… I mean, why did they have to die?"

"Well," Dumbledore stroked his chin for a moment before replying. "I believe that Hero and Leander were young and whatever had happened, they would have made an adventure out of it. But, in this particular situation, I am afraid the blame rests upon Hero. Never once did she do anything for the benefit of the two of them. She did not leave her tower and she did not get a second torch." He blinked several times and continued, "So, Miss Granger, if Hero and had been a bit smarter- someone like you, perhaps- she could have altered their fate."

Hermione's eyes glazed over slightly as her brain frantically worked at what the headmaster had said. She was torn from her thoughts though by a small pat on the arm and a gentle nod before the headmaster was off down the hall once more.

So, if it was up to Hero, then it would be up to her, she decided. Hermione exhaled as the first plan she could think of came to her mind. She hurried up the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room and flew up the stairs to her dormitory.

She dove on to her bed and grabbed at her trunk, pulling clothes out in a frantic search for the pile that held her well-worn journal. Finally coming upon it, she grabbed at a pen and ink and wrote in a furious scribble on the page opposite Draco's last note-

_Draco,_

_Whatever you do, do not come here. I can wait as long as I must, but with the Death Eater situation becoming so perilous, I believe it unwise to risk your life. Wait, my dear, and one day we will be together again. Whatever happens, do not make me worry more than I already am._

_All my love,_

_Hermione_

_PS Reread your favorite myth, my dear. I refuse to become another Hero and Leander._

End Note: There you go. The whole reason for the title and summary and purpose of the story in a nutshell. I promise in the summary that this is a mirror of the Greek myth Hero and Leander and, while you may have doubted it, I hope you now have an understanding to what I'm doing. Please review, and have a good day, pals.


	24. Reunited

Author's Note: Hello. I am amazed I even have readers anymore because of the amount of time I make you all wait for updates. Honestly, I have been so busy what with my crazy show I'm in and what not… yada yada yada… it's just a bunch of excuses. Okay, so just to warn you, there is only one chapter after this. And then it's over. Okay, so once again sorry and thanks for all your comments on the last chapter.

**Miss Mills**: Yeah, that chapter was much needed. Even I was beginning to question exactly where the relevance was.

**ThousandI**: No no, please don't abstain from PAMS. I promise I don't mind. I was just a little confused. And thank you for your comment on my characterization of Dumbledore. He's a hard cookie to emulate.

**Natty123**: Wow. Thank you.

**Alenor**: I seriously think we are the same person… either that or you have the ability to read my mind. No, I'm afraid the lollipop Dumbledore gave Hermione was not meant to be significant, even though now I wish I had thought of something to use it for.

**Perfect By Nature**: Which website, just out of curiosity? Oh, don't worry about not reading in a while, just so long as you're caught up now I'm happy.

**Samantha Cameron**: Well, goodness. Your review made me smile to say the least. I'm sorry to elicit such hysterics.

**Kaiba3**: Then I'm sure you'll be thrilled with this chapter.

**Elvenwicca**: Goodness, thanks.

Chapter 24: Reunited 

Hermione was weary. The constant thinking of Draco and worry of his safety, along with regular schoolwork and managing Harry and Ron was nearly unbearable, and by breakfast the next day she felt exhausted. Three days. It had been three days since the treacherous night with Lucius and Draco Malfoy; and those three days had been the longest in Hermione's life.

She ate very little, picking at her eggs as if they were some sort of experiment rather than a source of nutrition. Harry and Ron chattered incessantly of nothing, and she did not remotely bother to pay attention. Instead, she allowed her mind to wander to the blond, gray-eyed man who had stolen her heart.

She nearly winced at the sappy romanticism of the thought. And yet, this blissful, inexplicably warm feeling of love had consumed her and even the sappiest of sentiments seemed to fit perfectly. Her Leander.

And then her thoughts suddenly veered a different direction. Yes, Leander… and his doom. She sighed and lowered her eyes even further to her eggs in thought of how to save Draco from his end. Her plan of telling him not to come had worked thus far, but it had only been one day since she had even written to him. It was very likely that he had not even seen the note yet. What else could she do?

'Well,' she thought, 'at the very least I can love him.' The thought made her smile.

She took a bite of eggs, satisfied and considerably comforted.

"Pass the salt, will you Hermione?" Harry asked suddenly, rousing Hermione from her thoughts.

She reached to give Harry the salt over the table.

"This'll be what it's like, huh," he continued as he thoroughly salted his potatoes, "after we get out of Hogwarts. Just less people…" he took a bite and continued with a stuffed mouth, "I guess I never thought about it that way."

Hermione stopped short of her fork at his comment and nearly gagged. Oh God, she was still married to Harry. It was a fact that she rarely remembered.

The flawless resolution she had had to simply love Draco seemed to have one vital flaw- her husband. How was she supposed to love Draco with her whole heart when legally she was bound to Harry? 'Of course,' she reasoned to herself, 'a piece of paper doesn't define how you feel about a person.' And yet she couldn't get away from the thought. Finally, once and for all, she had to end this marriage.

"Harry, can I speak to you?" Hermione said softly, glancing at Ron. He took the hint.

"Umm," Ron said, standing from the table, "I think Seamus owes me money. I'll see you two later."

"Seeya," Harry called. He shoveled a bit more toast into his mouth before saying, "Yeah, Hermione?"

"Do you really think this whole thing is going to work?" He looked back at her in a glazed, unresponsive stupor. "I mean," she continued, "I realize that we just keep going back and forth about it, but I really want to address it. Once and for all. Do you seriously think we can keep a marriage up after graduation?"

Harry swigged his pumpkin juice.

"Yeah, Hermione. We're best friends. That's what husband and wife are supposed to be, aren't they? I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend my life with."

Hermione jerked a bit. This was going to be much harder than she had anticipated. The whole issue had never been quite so relevant before, and all their previous discussions had been in honest consideration of the other, while now Hermione felt guilty for thinking only of herself.

"See," she said gently, "that's just the thing. Wives aren't just supposed to be a person's friend. We're supposed to be more than that."

"Hermione," Harry straightened, his voice taking on the seriousness of hers, "We're not just pals. We're best friends. If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Yes," Hermione nodded, desperation leaking into her voice, "We love each other the way we love Ron, Harry. It's not the same as the way…" She suddenly didn't know how to end the statement.

"Not the same as what?"

"Nothing. It's just not the same."

"Not the same as the way you love Malfoy?"

Hermione gasped. Of course. Harry had suspected her of having feelings for Draco for months. He had hit it right on that night they had gotten back when he had accused Draco of stealing her from him. Hermione hardly noticed that she hadn't answered.

"Hermione, you want to tell me what's going on?"

She still couldn't quite find the words, especially after being so abruptly confronted about the whole thing. There were two choices. The first, most appealing, was to deny everything, laughing at the idea. The second was to come clean and tell him everything. While this terrified her, it also gave her some relief. It would be a chance to get it off her chest and lighten the burden. And besides, what was a best friend for?

"Harry, you really won't believe what's happened…" she trailed off, desperately thinking of how to approach the incident on the roof.

"Try me." He stared ahead at her, almost daring her not to continue. After a few moments, he added, "Just start at the beginning, Hermione. What's wrong?"

"You remember the Valentine's Day Ball?" she asked hurriedly. She supposed this was a good enough beginning.

"Vaguely," he chuckled a bit, "It was, after all, a full two days ago."

It seemed like such a longer time than that.

"Well," she continued, "I told you afterwards that I had just gotten tired and gone to bed early, but I hadn't."

"I'd figured. Go on."

"When you went to get punch, I sat down by the wall and suddenly, Draco pulled me back behind some curtains."

"He didn't do anything to you, did he? Is this why you're so upset?"

"No!" she hadn't even thought of this assumption. It made her laugh a bit, "Of course not. Now, where was I?"

"Behind the curtain."

"Oh yes. Well, he informed me that Lucius Malfoy was in the building and, to protect ourselves, we tried to escape. The only place we could hide though, was in this closet out in the hall and there was a ladder in the closet."

"So, naturally, you climbed it."

"Naturally. And it seemed, for the time that we were safe…"

Now came the difficult part. The lovely moment that Draco had told her he loved her, the kiss they shared, and Lucius attacking.

"Well," she continued hesitantly, stuttering, "when we were up there…" She shut her eyes and plunged forward determinedly, holding her breath, "He told me he loved me and I told him I loved him and then Lucius came and tried to rape me again after putting him in a full body bind but then Draco got out and started fighting him off of me and then Lucius fell off the side of the roof and died, and Draco felt guilty and knew people would suspect him so he flew away and left me a note saying he would return to me but now I'm afraid for his safety because we're just like Hero and Leander."

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, amazed that she had actually spoken coherent words. She looked at Harry, waiting for some kind of response.

Harry looked very solemn for a few moments before spluttering out laughter. Hermione gave him the most exasperated look he had possibly ever seen, sobering him a bit.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It's just…" he fell into a laughing fit again, "Do you realize that you just fit an entire night into one breath? It sounded like you were about to hyperventilate any moment."

"Well, excuse me for spilling my guts to you," Hermione tried hard not to laugh herself, "I mean, you could have at least given me some advice before teasing me."

"Oh, what do you want me to say?" Harry took Hermione's hands over the table, still smiling, "I'm very happy for you both."

"No, you don't understand though," Hermione said, trying to regain her seriousness, "We have to get divorced because I love him."

"I know," Harry kissed her hands and put them back on the table. "I will speak to Dumbledore this afternoon. Don't worry about it."

"You're not hurt, are you? I mean," Hermione said as Harry stood, "you did just get done arguing that we'd be perfect together."

"Hermione," Harry sat again, "I've seen the way you love Draco. There is no argument."

He stood and walked to the head table, throwing her a reassuring smile on the way.

Hermione made it through one class that morning before calling it quits. Her mind was rattled and her concentration was shot. Ron was the one to suggest her going up and taking a nap before doing anything else, and, quite uncharacteristically, she took him up on his suggestion.

She made her way to her dormitory, removing her scarves and cloaks as she ascended the stairs to her room. Upon opening the door, however ready she had been to take a peaceful nap, she was suddenly in a mood that was anything but peaceful.

Her journal lay open, shining ink still wet upon the page. She cautiously walked to it, as if it was a sleeping beast, lying in wake- ready to attack. The words were even more frightening.

_Tonight. Be my Hero._

Those four words were all, and her heart had nearly stopped. Tonight? Where? Only one place would fit, and there could only be one thing he had meant by being his Hero.

Panicked, Hermione gathered her scarves and cloak and ran as fast as she could down the stairs, into her common room and then down to the Great Hall, where she stopped short at a certain cubby in the wall, in which she entered into, climbed the ladder and made her way onto the windy, icy roof of Hogwarts. Noticing that it was still mid-afternoon, Hermione curled up in her cloak and closed her eyes, content with the idea of taking her nap in the place she would await Draco.

A swift _whoosh_ awoke Hermione.

It was dark.

She suddenly straightened and held out her wand, frantically muttering "Lumos," creating a shaft of light filtering up into the sky. She wondered briefly if the sound had been made by a broom swooping low, looking for her beacon.

She waited a bit longer.

Suddenly, it seemed out of nowhere, Draco had landed and was before her, walking towards her. She was caught so off-guard that she staggered back a few steps and nearly tripped.

He laughed and ran to catch her, and she took the moment to become a bit more limp, only to be held by him a moment longer.

"Hi," she whispered, a smile broadening on her face.

"Hi."

He set her firmly on her feet and whispered "Nox," the only light now present the illuminating torches from the halls beneath them, shining through frost-covered windowpanes.

Draco's face was covered in shadows and Hermione spent a moment running her thumbs along his cheekbones and combing her fingers through his hair. She lifted her face slowly, pausing just a breath away from his lips, before pressing hers gently against his.

He pressed back, enfolding her in his arms and cradling the back of her head in his hand. Hermione pulled back slowly, breathing slowly.

"Draco," she whispered, still so close to his face, "You have to go. It's not safe…"

He lifted his finger and placed it against her lips.

"I know."

He pulled her in and kissed her again, thoroughly and passionately, wrapping his arms snugly around her waist and allowing her arms to wrap around his neck.

Hermione stroked his shoulders and neck as his lips explored hers, and as she felt his tongue push gently and then more fervently against her own. She suddenly couldn't breath and pulled her face from his, breathing in sharply.

"It's getting warm, isn't it?" she panted.

He nodded, lips upturned slightly and gazing at her now swollen lips. He stepped back, putting his arms out at his sides and said, cocking an eyebrow slightly, "Help yourself."

Hermione laughed and stepped hurriedly toward him, unbuttoning the clasp of his cloak, and allowing it to fall to the ground at his feet. She then stepped back, similarly motioning with her open arms. Draco met her, unbuttoning the clasp on her cloak and allowing it to similarly fall at her feet.

Then, after a moment, and as if on cue, they both reached for the other's tucked-in shirt, pulling it loose and simultaneously starting on undoing the buttons. Midway down, their lips caught above, and, with a bit of subconscious effort, they discarded of each other's shirts and kicked off their shoes while maintaining a solid deep kiss.

With skin exposed, their bodies seemed to magnetize to each other, and their arms were soon wrapped about each other again.

Hermione shivered convulsively and giggled, "We'll die of hypothermia, Draco."

Draco shook his head and smiled, picking up the articles of clothing and putting all of them in an organized pile in the nook of the roof they both recognized very clearly.

"You'd be surprised how effective body heat is, dear."

She laughed and squeezed his hand as she looked over their carefully made nest. Slowly, her hand moved to her own belt, slowly undoing it and pulling it loose and letting it fall beside the pile, before sliding her skirt off and adding it, shivering in the nearly unbearable cold.

Draco silently undid his pants as well, completing the heap, and smiling at Hermione as he too shivered in the cold.

"Well…" Hermione sighed, as she could feel a blush rising in her cheeks, suddenly very aware of how close to the event she was. She shuffled uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her stomach.

Draco, clearly sensing her unease, put an arm around her and kissed her forehead, stroking her hair.

Hermione lifted her face to look into his eyes and muttered quietly, "What now?"

Draco smiled and tilted her chin up towards him, closing his lips over hers once again. Hermione moved close to him, flattening her nearly naked body against his, and slowly feeling a sensation travel up her spine and fill her with a new kind of heat.

Hermione tingled. Her skin prickled and yearned in a new way and her body became frantic, her hands running over his arms and chest and around his neck again as her lips became more urgent.

As understanding as ever, Draco's hand, previously planted on her waist, slowly crept up her side, his fingers running against each of her ribs and then resting on the side of her bra. His thumb slowly moved out along the front, making first large and then slowly smaller and smaller circles until it was rubbing directly against her hardening nipples.

Hermione moaned at the contact and pressed her chest against his hand as well as she could. "Please, Draco," she muttered between kisses, her voice low and thick with lust, "Please get it off."

He nodded, and moved his hands around her back to the clasp of her bra, his eyes moving to join hers as he dropped the undergarment onto the ground. Hermione slowly lowered herself onto the pile of clothing, pulling him by the hand to join her, and flattening herself out, continuing to guide his hand to her still straining breasts.

Draco leaned over her, kissing her lips briefly as his fingers continued to stiffen her nipples, then moved to kiss her jaw and neck, moving down in steady, rhythmic presses against her skin until he was directly between her two breasts. He kissed first to her left breast, and quickly replaced his thumb with his tongue, sucking in and arousing a low moan from Hermione, whose back was arched against the stone even through all the layers of clothing.

After attending the right nipple, Draco moved down her stomach, kissing down and down until reaching the edge of her only remaining undergarments. He observed the article for a moment, looking up at Hermione, whose eyes were clenched shut and whose chest was rising and falling in pants and moans, causing the bulge between his legs to harden even further.

He dipped his fingers beneath the edge and slowly pulled them down her legs, kissing her thighs and knees along the way. After discarding his own underclothes, he rejoined Hermione, stretching himself along her and kissing her long and softly on the lips, before she opened her lips and hungrily welcomed him into her mouth, also positioning herself beneath him, nervously awaiting the act.

A revelation overwhelmed Hermione. It was not nearly the first time she had done this. So, she rationalized in these matter of seconds, why was there this hesitation and anxiousness. Because, she realized, this meant something. It was not an empty act of survival or obedience this time- it had meaning and depth and significance. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the pure feel of him at this comforting thought.

Draco pulled his face away for a moment and whispered, his lips against her ear, "I love you, Hermione." A moment later, he had filled her.

As their slick bodies ground against each other in the night, their rhythm quickening and their cries filling the air, both Draco and Hermione had the thought that never before or in the past would there be a more perfect time.

With time, they had returned to merely lying side by side, a cloak wrapped tightly around their close-fitting bodies. They faced each other and kissed once in awhile, sometimes talking, sometimes simply being silent, knowing the other was there.

"You're shivering," Hermione gathered the cloak closer around Draco, "Are you that cold?"

"No," Draco whispered, holding Hermione closer to him.

"Then why are you shivering?" she laughed, reaching up and kissing him on the forehead.

"I don't know…" Draco closed his eyes and rolled Hermione around, so that she was reclining back against his chest and his arms were crossed across her front, and he whispered in her ear, "I'm happy."

Hermione smiled and closed her eyes, nuzzling her face against his arm and falling asleep, truly and wholly happy for the first time in a long while.

End Note: Pretty please review. I'm a bit nervous- this is the first thing I've ever really written like this.


	25. The Beginning

Author's Note: Okay, everyone. Here is the absolute last chapter. I know a lot of people thought chapter 24 was the last, but I think I had specifically said there was one more. So, I apologize if you thought it was over. It wasn't. I hope you all have enjoyed our time together, and I'll miss you guys. I think I'll take a break from this site for a while, but I already have a story planned possibly for Fiction Press. Anyway, love you all. You've been awesome.

**Jezebellerd15**: Thanks. I can't help getting nervous about things I'm not used to writing. It's just a step out of the comfort zone.

**ThousandI**: They do deserve a happy ending, don't they? Oh, and I'm glad you noticed my unnaturally idyllic ending to that chapter and have caught on to my habit of creating roller coasters. I'm really going to miss your reviews- they've all meant a lot to me.

**Miss Mills**: Getting caught was the last thing on my list of worries for the couple. You'll see what I mean. MWA!

**Cold Feet**: You flatter me. I'm seriously blushing. Your reviews always bring a smile to my face, and I'm soooo glad you've enjoyed it. Oh, and your brother comment made me laugh really hard.

**Adrian Pucey**: Sorry it wasn't entirely ASAP. It is a review nonetheless.

**Puck-X**: Wow. Your review was really cool. I really like when people point out things not only about the story but about the writing and you did just that. It made me really happy. Also a very flattering review. Thank you so much.

**Edhel meldai**: Thanks about the nervous comment. Kind of refer to what I said to Jezebellerd15. It helps when people give me positive feedback on specific things I'm worried about.

**Elvenwicca**: That's right, go me!

**Chinkerchickchu**: Haha. Thanks.

**Anonymous**: Did you read on? It's not like you're even reading this right now, because I doubt you even looked at my story after leaving your critical review. Oh well, I'm not phased. I have tried my utmost to keep the characters as in-character as possible, giving explanations on why they are the way they are and allowing them to grow. If I've failed at that, then I apologize.

**Natty123**: Thanks for all your cute reviews.

**Kaiba3**: Yes, Hero and Leander does end in a "jacked," as you say, way. I guess you'll have to read and find out whether Hermione and Draco will have the same fate. ; )

**JTfanaddict**: Thanks a lot. Wow, I've never had anything I've written referred to as "hot." It was cool.

**Seaweedqueen**: I've totally been in that position where you're just enthralled in a story and you can't stop. It's really touching that it would happen with my story. I'm really glad you like it, and I hope you didn't get in too much trouble about your homework.

**Alenor**: Yep, seeya later friend.

Chapter 25: The Beginning 

The morning sun rose lazily over Hogwarts and Hermione stretched, yawning happily. She snuggled further into the man lying beside her and could feel his breath slightly hitch as he awoke. Draco's arms wrapped further around her, squeezing her tightly and kissing the back of her head.

"Good morning," she whispered, turning to face him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great," he smiled, yawning and kissing her lightly on the lips.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Draco stretched his head around and looked up at the large clock always ticking at Hogwarts.

"Nearly seven."

Hermione gasped. "I have to get down to breakfast."

"I figured as much."

Draco slowly stood and Hermione giggled as he let out a painful gasp at the bitter cold air on his naked body.

"Holy shit, I had forgotten how cold it was."

Hermione nodded, and watched him dress, proceeding then to do the same.

"Well…" she stood, facing him.

They both knew they would have to part, but the knowledge made it no easier.

"I guess I'd better be off."

"Right."

They glanced back and forth awkwardly, both not knowing how to end the wonderful time they'd had together. Finally, Hermione slowly wrapped her arms around his waist and he around her shoulders.

"I'll come back tonight," he said, his face resting against her head.

"You promise?"

"Nothing could stop me."

Hermione smiled and reached up to kiss him briefly, then stepped back, her hand lingering momentarily on his arm.

"Okay, better make sure no one sees you."

Draco smiled and mounted his broom, "I'll do that…" He kicked off and quickly ascended in the air, then swooped down once more, "I love you, Hermione," he shouted from thirty feet above her.

"I love you, Draco."

Then, with a blown kiss, he was gone, and Hermione made her way down to her dormitory, making a point of not allowing herself to be seen.

When she finally arrived at breakfast, Ron and Harry were both stunned at how late she was.

"Where were you?" Ron demanded.

"Oh," Hermione smiled coyly, "I slept in."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Okay, as unlike you as that is, we will accept it."

"Good," Hermione reached for the plate of fruit, a smile now widely displayed across her face.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks highly reminiscent of one experiencing a particularly twisted episode of the Twilight Zone.

"Hermione," Ron asked slowly, "are you okay?"

"Uh huh," Hermione's voice came out far more high-pitched and sing-songy than she would have liked. But, by golly, she couldn't help it. "How about you guys? How are you doing?"

"Fine," Harry said, "We're fine."

"I'm glad to hear that," Hermione reached across and clasped their hands, as if to show how sincerely glad she was to hear that they were fine. Then she returned to her grapefruit, which tasted sweeter than ever.

Between slurps of grapefruit juice, Hermione noticed Parvati and her band of twits- Lavender, Maggie, Theodora, and Jill- making their way to where Hermione, Harry and Ron were sitting.

"Hermione," Parvati smiled, "Why didn't you come to bed last night?" she glanced at Harry, her lips upturned amusedly.

"You didn't go to bed last night?" Harry asked, missing the indication made by Parvati.

"Yeah…" Hermione said carefully, "I fell asleep in the library while I was studying. That's why I didn't wake up at the proper time either."

"Yeah," Ron turned to Parvati, "It's a habit of Hermione's. A bit unusual, but you shouldn't read too much into it."

Parvati snorted and turned rigidly, throwing back over her shoulder, "We'll talk later, okay Hermione?"

"Yeah, sure."

The group made their way back to their previous seats and, the moment they were seated, dove into a conversation that would undoubtedly become the stuff of rumors within hours.

"So," Ron leaned back, smiling at Hermione, "you didn't go to bed last night."

"I fell asleep in the library. Like you said, I tend to do that more often than I should."

"Sure you did."

"What's that supposed to mean, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione began grabbing more food, a bit more frantically than before.

"I mean, that you most definitely did not spend the night in the library. Well, I mean, I suppose you could have, but it seems like you'd have better sense than to risk getting caught by Pince."

"I've never seen you so keen on my not getting in trouble. You're usually the one provoking it."

Ron was laughing to himself and neither Harry nor Hermione (though she had a relatively good idea) knew what he was laughing about.

"Ron, would you spit out whatever you're thinking," Hermione finally spat, annoyed and more curious than she'd been in a long while.

"Yeah, come on Ron. You've kept us in suspense long enough."

"Alright, alright," Ron took a moment to compose himself before saying, "Hermione had sex."

"Hermione had sex?" Harry nearly shouted.

"Shh," Hermione tried desperately to hush them.

Ron was laughing and Harry sat in wide-eyed disbelief.

"Well," Harry said, "Did you?"

Hermione lowered her gaze and nodded, almost as if she were ashamed. She thought she had better explain. "Last night I met Draco on the roof, and we… are you hurt?"

Harry's face was unmoved. Not bitter or angry, simply numb.

"No," he said slowly, color returning to his cheeks, "I'm not hurt. I'm just glad it was him. You could have ruined yourself…"

Hermione was touched. How was she blessed with such friends?

"Harry, I don't want you to think that I was…"

"Dumbledore has officially sent in our request to Fudge for the marriage to be annulled."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

"What?"

"Dumbledore wrote a personal letter so that we might be spared the visit to court, and any other customary legal procedures."

"Thank you, Harry."

"Don't thank me. It was for both of us."

Hermione nodded, "Right. Both of us."

Hermione was suddenly flooded and overwhelmed with unspeakable joy. Her life could begin- her life with Draco. Nothing held her back now and she wanted more than anything to simply run into Draco's arms and hold him, knowing that she could now never be afraid of having to let go. She was in a state of frantic giddiness and the world filtered with a light unknown before now. If she had thought that the night before was bliss, then this was doubly so.

She stood, unable to contain herself a moment longer and raced out of the Great Hall and up to her dormitory. Desperately, she reached beneath her bed and grabbed out the journal to do the only sensible thing she could come up with- write.

Writing had become something of an obsession since her time spent in the confines of the Malfoy residence. It was more than a form of self-expression- it was seeing yourself on the most base and flawed and real way. She didn't need to put on the façade that she constantly wore, or have to cover her insecurities or hindrances. It was pure freedom to be wholly herself and wholly content being so.

Unfortunately, she only got two words written on the page before the door flung open, revealing Parvati- for once alone. Hermione slammed her journal shut.

"Hi, Parvati."

"Hello, Hermione, you said we could talk."

"Yeah, what's up?"

Parvati made her way to Hermione's bed and sat beside her. "Oh," she said, "Nothing, I was just thinking that you maybe needed some time to talk to a girl about everything that's going on. I mean, I know Ron and Harry are great, but really, they can't give you things that other girl friends can give you."

"Everything's fine, Parvati. But I appreciate you thinking of me." Hermione stood and made for the door.

"Hermione, you and I both know you weren't in the library last night."

Hermione turned.

"Nothing that I do concerns you in the slightest way. So, whether I was in the library or not doesn't matter, does it?"

Parvati laughed and stood, crossing to Hermione, "I suppose not."

She opened the door and began to descend the stairs before turning and saying, "Class is going to start. You've missed a lot lately; how are your grades holding up with that?" She flashed a brilliantly white smile and flipped her head back round, proceeding to walk down the stairs and Hermione could hear the distinct creaking as the portrait of the fat woman allowed her out.

It seemed that all during class, there were couples emerging almost from thin air. 'Honestly,' she mused, 'where have they all come from?' Three Gryffindor couples were sitting very close in Transfiguration, all whispering into each other's ears now and then, and constantly with arms around one another. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, it seemed that the whole of the NEWT student congregation had chosen a partner they were noticeably attracted to. Hermione was left without a partner, totally segregated and alone amongst the mass of raging hormones. And then, to top it off, in History of Magic, she could hardly concentrate on the notes because in the back corner, Parvati and her most recent interest were- for lack of a better word- snogging like there was no tomorrow.

It was more than she could take. She wanted Draco and she wanted him now. Directly after dinner, Hermione made her way up to the roof, with several blankets and a few pillows. It seemed even colder than the night before, and Hermione smiled at all the ways they would have to use the art of body warmth. Sitting on her makeshift nest, Hermione gazed off on the horizon until she was sure it was appropriately dark.

She lifted her wand and whispered the lumos incantation, flooding the floor and empty space with a brilliantly white light. She waved it slowly back and forth into the sky until Draco suddenly came into sight and landed beside her.

"Draco!" Hermione cried, flinging herself in his arms. "I've missed you so much today."

Draco smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Me too."

"Guess what?" Hermione giggled, wrapping herself in his cloak.

"Um, Ron was finally admitted to the asylum?"

Hermione laughed and punched his arm affectionately.

"No," she snuggled back up to him before saying, her eyes closed against his chest, "Harry's and my marriage has been- or will shortly be- officially annulled."

Draco stepped back, eyes wide.

"Dumbledore sent in a personal letter and request to Fudge to have it done right away."

Draco smiled and grabbed Hermione, spinning her a good three feet off the ground.

"That's awesome!" Draco shouted, stepping back again.

"I know," Hermione laughed.

"God, now we can do whatever we like, can't we?"

"Well, to be fair, we were never not doing what we liked, were we? Now it's just a bit more acceptable."

"No, I mean…" Draco paused and looked at Hermione, "after Hogwarts… hell, right now, if you wanted…"

"What are you trying to say?"

"We can get married, Hermione," Draco stepped forward and took her around the waist, pulling her close. "If you want, we'll get married."

Hermione nodded slowly, "Yeah, I'd like that."

Draco smiled and kissed her, "When?"

"How about after Hogwarts. I'm not sure if I'm up to two marriages within a month of each other."

"I'd say that's fair."

Then, Hermione set out the blankets and pressed her lips fervently against Draco's…

A commotion below awoke Hermione and Draco from their slumbering stupor. Hermione lie on her stomach with her face on Draco's constantly rising and falling chest. Her ear aware of each heart beat. It was she that awoke and had the chore of rising Draco.

"I think there's something happening."

The castle was noisy and bustling below. They could hear occasional screams and yells, and a constant buzz of chatter.

"I don't know what it could be."

"Me neither."

They looked at each other and rose, frantically dressing and tossing the blankets down the shaft to the closet below.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow," Draco promised, latching another kiss quickly before climbing onto his broom and whizzing away.

Hermione anxiously made her way down the ladder, suddenly very worried of whatever was causing this much of a stir within the castle walls. She ran directly out into the entry and Great Hall, where it seemed the entire student population was scurrying to and fro in a panic.

Seeing Dumbledore at the front of the room, she immediately made her way toward him, disregarding the fact that she would undoubtedly be thought of as a pesk. However, before she could reach her headmaster, McGonagall had taken her by the arm and pulled her to a corner in haste.

"Professor, what's going on?" Hermione asked, the worry thick in her voice.

"My dear," McGonagall patted Hermione tenderly on the shoulder, "I really don't want to alarm you, but an anonymous group of Death Eaters were spotted mere miles from the castle."

Hermione gasped in horror.

"You needn't worry though, Mr. Potter has already been fetched by members of the Order."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed, realizing that he too could be in danger from a deliberate Death Eater attack, "Good, I'm glad he's safe."

"What will the students be doing? We can't very well continue classes as usual."

"No, we cannot. We will be under severe lock-down as the premises are secured. Though we don't know how long that will take, and whether or not it will be in time."

Hermione couldn't breathe. Air was suddenly unknown to her lungs and she staggered back from the force of the sudden incident.

"Thank you, Professor," she squeaked, before turning and fleeing from the Great Hall and up to her dormitory to fetch her journal.

The journal was wide open though, and lying neatly on her bed when she entered the room. This could mean one thing, just as it always did. Draco had been there.

She ran to the bed and began reading feverishly-

_My dear, I had a sudden remembrance of the lovely story you so cleverly realized was modeled after our own. Perhaps you will enjoy this-_

_The winds are high on Helle's wave, _

_As on that night of stormy water _

_When Love, who sent, forgot to save _

_The young, the beautiful, the brave, _

_The lonely hope of Sestus' daughter, _

_Oh! when alone along the sky _

_Her turret-torch was blazing high, _

_Though rising gale, and breaking foam, _

_And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home; _

_And clouds aloft and tides below, _

_With signs and sounds, forbade him go, _

_He could not see, he would not hear, _

_Or sound or sign foreboding fear; _

_His eye but saw that light of love, _

_The only star it hail'd above; _

_His ear but rang with Hero's song, _

_"Ye waves, divide not lovers long!" _

_That tale is old, but love anew _

_May nerve young hearts to prove as true._

_Bride of Abydos_

_Lord Byron _

'Well,' she thought, 'That's my Draco. A hopeless romantic.' The thought suddenly struck her as funny. For all of her life he had been anything but a cliché 'hopeless romantic.' And now, suddenly, within the span of a few months he had grown into such as that of Leander himself. She couldn't help grinning at the thought.

Her mind then swerved to the new catastrophe that had happened. That of Draco's life in danger, and substantially because of her. She had, after all, insisted- even begged- him to come back time and time again, and, time and time again, he had returned to her. Even if he knew of the imposing threat to his life, she highly doubted he would break his vow to return to her.

This set her at an alarmingly high stress level. If she was on edge before, it was nothing compared to this. She returned down to the Great Hall, where she assisted the teachers and prefects with calming down the first, second and third years. Keeping busy helped Hermione more than anything could have, and concentrating on the severe needs of some of the students and basically the entire staff allowed her to focus her attention briefly to something other than Draco.

However, night inevitably came, and with it, the sheer terror of her love's fate. The moment the sun set, Hermione, as inconspicuously as possible, retreated from the Great Hall and ascended the ladder to their rooftop sanctuary. She lit her wand, making sure to keep it as dim and covered as possible, creating a glow from the roof, rather than a much more obvious shaft of light.

Soon enough, she could see Draco's form in the distance, and she was filled with a relief and assurance that he would indeed reach her safely. But, at the moment this relief entered her mind, the light emanating from her wand was snuffed, as if a nox from afar had been cast on her wand. She tried desperately to relight it, but it did no good, and she stood alone and terrified on the roof of Hogwarts.

It occurred to her in this moment that the only sensible thing to do was rush downstairs and find help from someone- anyone. She hurried down the ladder and immediately began searching the room for Dumbledore, McGonagall, anyone. The only adult she could see was Filch, and personally, she thought it would do little to no help confiding in him her problem.

"Parvati!" Hermione hissed above the sleeping students, "Parvati, come here."

Parvati slowly made her way to Hermione. "Yeah?"

"Where's Dumbledore… or McGonagall… hell, even Snape."

"They're meeting in Dumbledore's office. They left the Head Boy and Girl- and prefects, of course- in charge while they're gone."

"Okay, look, Parvati, I need you to do something for me, alright?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Yeah, um…" Hermione calmed her breath and thought for a moment of the best plan of action, "I need you to go to Dumbledore's office and get one of them, preferably Dumbledore, down here and in the front of Hogwarts. Tell him that Hermione says it's a matter of dear importance."

Parvati cocked an eyebrow. "Wow, we're kind of playing spy, aren't we?"

"Whatever it takes to get you up to that office, Parvati."

Parvati laughed and turned to the hall, where Hermione could hear her ascending the stairs leading to Dumbledore's office.

Hermione, on the other hand, sped to the kitchens, where she figured the only unlocked passage out of the castle would be. Sure enough, it swung open leisurely for her and she squeezed her way through, out into an outdoor hallway, lined with pillars and having direct view of the front of the castle.

Suddenly, she froze. In horror, she watched a form in the air fly back and forth above the roof as spurts of green flashed out at him. As she squinted into the distance, she could suddenly make out something else- the figures of at least five masked Death Eaters, all with wands poised at Draco.

It was all Hermione could do to stifle a scream. She advanced further, and took out her wand, calculating whether it would be wise to attack any of the masked men. She decided in the negative. Suddenly a streak of green hit- blessedly not himself, but his broom, which proceeded to burst into pieces, leaving him to plummet at alarming speeds towards the roof of Hogwarts.

Hermione flung herself from her hiding place behind the pillars and shouted a charm to try and slow Draco's fall. She hardly had time to make a difference, for not a moment after casting the incantation, Draco disappeared behind the buttresses and towers into a very familiar nook.

Hermione made a silent prayer as she turned and retraced her steps to the Great Hall, the closet, the ladder, and Draco. She ascended with alarming speed, throwing herself forward and crawling toward the familiar shape of a very still Draco lying a few feet away. It was clear that he had hit against the side of the tower and slid down to where he was now.

As she cautiously approached him, she could hear the familiar voices of Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and several other teachers along with voices of the Death Eaters shouting spells at one another. Accompanied with the explosions and blasts of the spells hitting things, it created a chaotic environment.

But Hermione hardly noticed those things. All she could see was the limp body before her. She held his head in her hands, cradling it gently and realizing that her hands were being bathed in his blood from a gash inflicted to the back of his head. Tears rushed to her eyes and her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight.

Then, all of a sudden, she realized there was a slight in his chest. Timidly, it rose and fell in uneven, shallow breaths. Hermione was overcome by sobs; tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks as she realized that it was not yet over. Draco was still with her.

She laid his head back against the roof and crawled to the edge of the roof, her head hanging over to see the state of affairs below. It seemed everyone was more or less preoccupied, until she noticed that McGonagall was tending to a wounded Snape.

"Professor McGonagall," she cried out as loudly as she could.

McGonagall looked about, shocked at hearing her name. Finally she caught sight of Hermione.

"Miss Granger?"

"Professor, I need you up here now. There's an injured student. I thought he was dead, but he's not. It's urgent- come up at once."

McGonagall gave a curt nod and turned, giving Snape the remainder of his bandages and entering the castle.

Hermione crawled back to Draco and held his head in her arms again, resting it in her lap.

"Draco?" she whispered, tears returning. "Draco, can you hear me?"

Slowly, Draco's eyelids opened and a small smile grew on his face as he gazed up at Hermione.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said breathlessly, as if each word was a stab of pain.

"Don't talk, Draco. Just be still."

"Hermione," Draco gasped, "I think this is it."

Hermione's tears fell violently against Draco's face. "No, Draco. You can't say that. You have to hold on."

"I love you."

"No!" Hermione shouted, almost angrily, "You will not give up. If you die, I die; do you understand? If you want to kill me, go ahead and die, but Draco, I am begging you to try and save both our lives."

A smile crept across his face again.

"Can you do that for me?" Hermione bit back more tears, clearing her face and making as straight a countenance as was manageable. "Will you promise to try and hold on?"

"Kiss me, Hermione," Draco's voice was audibly labored, but had a newfound determination to it.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips gently to his, holding on only a moment before backing away and letting him breathe.

"Yes," he sighed, "I'll do my best."

Draco's eyes closed and Hermione held him closer to her, gathering some of her cloak to block the bleeding from his head. From the corridor behind them, Hermione could hear the climbing of a ladder and knew it was McGonagall.

"Help is coming, Draco," Hermione whispered, kissing his head and wrapping her arms around him. "You're safe… we'll both be safe now."

End Note: Well, I will now make my teary good-bye to all of you. I'll miss you guys a bunch. Especially people who have been with me for a long time, you guys feel like a bunch of friends or something. It's been really cool. Okay, so I hope that was a satisfactory ending. Combining the (not entirely) accuracy of the myth with the way (let's face it) we all wanted it to end. I really tried for that. Okay, bye bye and smooches!


End file.
